Shakespeare Studies Macbeth

ESPEARE STUDIES
MACBETH
BY
CHARLOTTE PORTER
HELEN A. CLARKE
Editors
of
POET-LORE ;
of
Robert Browntv^'s Works, Camberwell Edition
,
Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Works, Coxhoe Edition
;
Authors
of
the "Browning Study Prog.'amtnes
,"
etc.
\
.^ÊW YORK
:
CINCINNATI :
CHICAGO
*A>ltRICAN
BOOK
COMPJVNY
COPVHIGHT, igoi, BY
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.
Entered at Stationers'
Hall, London.
SHAKS. studies: MACBETH.
PR
Z825
P65
PREFACE
Whoever lifts a finger in the service of Shakespeare must feel
at once how he is but one more in a fellowship every hour en-
larging its bounds, and how to that fellowship he is at every turn
deeply indebted.
This feeling of community and of indebtedness is the more
ours in such a book as this. For it culls and collects at will such
diverse scattered comment and opinion as suits its purpose,
to
build upon the basis of a preliminary study of the play itself sug-
gestive comparisons and contrasts likely to evoke genuine thought,
discussion, and appreciative criticism.
Having a keen sense of the necessary dependence of any such
book upon foregoing books, it is our desire to express here our
gratitude to all predecessors whose work has yielded aught to this
volume
; and most of all to our friends, the American editors of
Shakespeare, Dr. Horace Howard Furness and Dr. W.
J.
Rolfe,
whom we and all lovers of the poet are perpetually bound to
honor, and, among aesthetic critics, to Professor Hiram Corson
md Dr. R. G. Moulton, whose thought, we feel, has often kindled
3urs.
One other word.
It should be pointed out here that
in addition to the
*
Mac-
e.h' Study Programme, which originally appeared in Poet-lore
nd to the special studies of the characters, the supernatural in
le play, its language, etc., all leading up to the
*
Moot Points for
)iscussion
'
there follows an entire Section devoted to extracts

om
Elizabethan books which probably were Shakespeare's library,
id by which his genius was in various ways ihfluenced. The
iks ctjimecting
these extracts with the play are made the sub-
3
4
PREFACE
jects of the special study opened in
*
Shakespeare's
Modeljyl
his Literary Material,' and they are introduced in the coi
one or two of the other special studies.
It has not been usual to make Shakespeare's books accessible,
in this way, to the school student and the general reader ; still
less usual to suggest a line of comparison. But it is hoped that
the manner in which this is done will prove peculiarly interesting.
The delightful archaic flavor of an antique book evaporates in
too much modernizing, yet with too Httle modernizing is a flavor
sealed from many readers. By retaining the original spelling and
wording, but modernizing the long s and the interchangeable
letters u and v, i andy, and the Hke, it is believed that the charm
of the books Shakespeare handled is open to modern eyes ; and
that readers may become wonted, thus, to another day than their
own, and gain something, it may be, also, of that insight into
literary characteristics of different epochs in human development
upon which aesthetic discrimination and pleasure often depend,
Boston.
FIRST SECTION
PART I.
SHAKESPEARE STUDY PRO-
GRAMME: PLOT AND PROGRESS
Act I.
Fortune Tempts
Topic.
Macbeth's 'Day of Success.'

Hints
for
Study
of
this Topic.
Are there any surprises in

'Macbeth '?
that is, is any event so sudden that the idea of it

is not introduced to foreshadow the actual fact?
Examine Act I. in the light of this query, noticing what the
main line of the action is, and how it is led up to in anticipation.
Scene i., in stage-setting alone
the 'desert place,' the

/
'thunder and lightning
'
is at once significant of the

natureini""
'
the play. The general atmospheric impression produced rr
cosmic nature itself a sympathetic image of the tragedy in
g.^.
eral, and in particular of the pending battle about which th(,
witches are talking, and of some vaguely felt issue hanging
upon it for the man whom the witches are proposing to meet
when the battle is decided. The whole scene is like a prologue
bearing in it the seeds of the action to follow, and suggesting
broadly, also, the influence of environment and occasion on
man, especially upon the man named
the hero of the drama
Macbeth.
In this little scene the Third Witch says the definite things.
She declares that the battle will be decided at sunset. She
names Macbeth as the one upon whom their agreement to meet
centers. Is this an indication of some intention to give indi-
vidual character to the witches? It may be held in mind for
comparison with their later appearances to see whether it is
borne out or not. Is it, rather, simply a dramatic device for
bringing out effectively the telltale points?
lO
SHAKESPEARE STUDIES: MACBETH
Scene ii. is taken up with news of the battle which scene i.
has already told us is in dispute. The news brought by the first
messenger, the Sergeant, is incomplete : the mind is only half
relieved by his report from the desperate state of struggling equi-
librium which he paints with the turgid metaphors of a strong
man straining every nerve to tell his exciting story, before he
dies of the bloody gashes he has received but is ignoring.
It takes a second messenger, Ross, to complete the account of
the revolt; and the breathlessness which marks the scene, quieted
down with the surety of the success of the king's arms over the
rebellion and invasion, is shifted to the second subject of sus-
pense and interest, already singled out by the witches
to the
man 'disdaining fortune,' brave Macbeth.
The event of this scene
the victory
is thus both foreshad-

owed and left hanging in doubt from the first, and from Mac-
beth's relation to it comes a foreboding, also awakened by the
-
ch scene, that new treason may grow.
he rendezvous of the witches with Macbeth promised in \
X. scene is left to be taken up. All that was sinister in th,
ppointment to meet him on the heath after the fate of the battU
was decided, is developed in scene iii.
As regards the witches alone, it may be noticed that here again
the third witch seems to be the one most intent upon Macbeth.
To her is given the climax in their greeting of him. She hails
him with the title that makes him start. By the strange effect of
that greeting upon him this scene is made ominous of an event
to grow out of the only actual fact made known in the scene
namely the announcement to Macbeth of his accession to the

place of the Thane of Cawdor. Even this is not a new fact in
itself, but only as to its announcement to Macbetli. As a fact
accomplished it belongs to the preceding scene.
What is the new event then, of this scene which
constitutes a
fresh step in the plot and overshadows Act II. ? Is it external
or psychological?
Contrast the effect of Ross's announcement on Banquo and
PLOT AND PROGRESS
II
Macbeth. What light do their remarks throw on the situa-
tion?
What are the events of scene iv. ? Is there nothing new
externally except the announcement of the king that he bequeaths
his crown to his eldest son? This announcement brings out an
inner eventfulness of far more importance. Macbeth's precon-
ceived ambition, that he has been brooding over and that the
witches have newly roused, is suddenly revealed in its worst aspect
by this setback. The clash of the king's announcement with his
secretly cherished designs is like a glare of lightning to see him
by at the instant when his mind is leaping to attain his heart's
desire, at any cost, despite any obstacle. Of course, as the kins-
man of the king and a powerful noble, he might have acceded to
the throne of Scotland (which was not then necessarily hereditary)
without violence, if the king had not thus declared his intention
to secure his son's succession. By this declaration his mind is
driven to the general idea of foul play. But does it lead him
to any immediate definite plan of action ?
Is there any indication in this scene that the king's next an-
nouncement of his intention to honor Macbeth by becoming his
guest at Inverness is seized upon by Macbeth as convenient for
his ambitious purpose? Should the actor of the part here show
by implication that he is. alive to it? Or must he be careful lest
he overact? Ought he to make this scene forebode the next, but
without anticipating it so far as to interfere with the effectiveness
of Lady Macbeth's first appearance ?
In scene v. the king's visit to Inverness is brought out in all
the horrible significance of its fitness to tempt and serve Mac-
beth's ambition. But it is brought out through the effect of the
announcement on Lady Macbeth. Macbeth himself seems to
have been so preoccupied with the check to his ambition when
Duncan announced Malcolm as his heir that his mind failed to
seize the
*
nearest way ' to the end he was even then avowing to
himself. Was he less quick witted than Lady Macbeth, although
not dependent on her for evil aims and suggestions ?
12 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES: MACBETH
Is the measure of his dependence upon her shown in scenes iv.
and V. to be the debt of a bad intention upon
intuition and
mental grasp of the situation, i.e. on both insight and executive
plan for the enterprise that will consummate the bad deed he
intends?
What does scene v. accomplish? Is any altogether fresh fact
brought to light? Is Lady Macbeth herself its great event?
The scene summarizes all that has gone before, but unfolds its
implications and points the drift of the action already in move-
ment
;
and it apparently does this, by making us see the whole
sharply and definitely through Lady Macbeth's sensitive response
to Macbeth's desires and her pitilessly clear logic upon the con-
venient opportunity which events have shaped to suit them. Show
in detail how the scene is made vividly ominous of the deed now
breathlessly looming ahead of them.
Scenes vi. and vii. take on swiftly the necessary intervening
action of small happenings
the king's arrival, the banqueting

time, the details of the plan for the night. Macbeth's half-
hearted withdrawal from his resolution is dexterously bound up
with the arrangement of these details. He has not seen how to
do safely and effectively what he wants done on that night, and
he requires Lady Macbeth to screw him up again, not merely
by heartening him, but by showing him a feasible plausible
method. Does it make him any the less responsible for the
plot? Does his executive weakness tempt her and elicit all
her power for evil quite as much as her executive ability leads
him on?
How does the influence of the two on each other intensify the
impression here of headlong action?
The faltering at the crucial moment of Macbeth as the instru-
ment of the impending deed acts like a cold wind on the fire of
Lady Macbeth's directing force to make it glow more fierily and
powerfully. Her spiritual energy and practical ability in this
way soon react upon Macbeth, who adds such body and momen-
tum to their plot that, as the scene closes, the imagination of the
PLOT AND PROGRESS
1
3
audience or the reader rushes on irresistibly toward the fore-
shadowed gfurder.
Sum up the actual events of Act I. on the one side, and on
the other, the subjective events, so to speak, and contrast their
influence on the plot and their bearing on each other.
Act II.
The Deed
Topic.
Fitness of Time and Place.

Hints.
From Banquo's remarks to Fleance at the opening

of this act, do you get the impression that he already suspects
that Macbeth will use violent means to bring about the fulfillment
of the witches' prophecy? Is he more afraid of what he may be
tempted to do himself to help on the prophecy in his own behalf,
or is he already fearful lest he and his son might also become the
victims of Macbeth's ambition? Are his remarks to Macbeth
about the king perfectly ingenuous or is he trying Macbeth in
order to discover if possible his intentions toward the king?
Are Macbeth's replies made only with the intention of putting
Banquo off the scent, or does he also intend to throw out a bribe
to Banquo and insure his silence upon whatever may happen,
when he promises
*
honor ' to Banquo if he shall
'
cleave ' to his
*
consent '
?
Would the audience be fooled by Macbeth in this scene if it
were not in the secret? How has it been put in the secret?
Since it is in the secret as to the intentions of Macbeth, what
purpose does this scene and the dagger speech serve, unless it be
to reveal the characters of the actors by hints and previsions
of what is going on within their minds? Does the fascination
of this short scene depend largely upon the fact that it would be
possible to interpret in more than one way the inner workings of
these two men's minds? The dagger speech besides r.eveaUn
g
Macbeth's mood tells the audience that the deed is about to be
accomplished. What arrangements had Macbeth and Lady Mac-
beth made to insure its successful accomplishment as implied in
the talk and action though not indicated directly?
14
In the scene (ii.) following the murder do you get the impres-
sion that it is physical revulsion rather than moral horror at ids
deed that unnerves Macbeth? Does Lady Macbeth' s strength
appear in this scene to be due entirely to her greater heartless-
ness, or to a determination to counteract the effects of her hus-
band's weakness, and so save the day for him?
Does the scene with the porter serve the double purpose of
relieving the tense strain upon the nerves of the audience, and
of reminding them that the little petty events of life go on in
their dull and even tenor while dark and terrible deeds are being
accomplished? Or is it chiefly effective as a means for bringing
home to the two guilty ones the fact that henceforth they will be
outcast from that world which breaks in upon their crime so care-
lessly, yet so full of the latent power of retribution which will
one day be their undoing? By the end of this act has the con-
summation of the deed produced any moral effects for better or
worse upon either Macbeth or Lady Macbeth? Or do we find
them simply following a blind human impulse to save them-
selves from detection? Which of them overacts the most and
why?
While the moral action of the play may be said to be in poise
(scene iii.) in Macbeth and Lady Macbeth with their ambition
attained, the counter forces at once begin to make themselves
apparent.
Point out what these forces are in scenes iii. and iv. If Mal-
colm and Donalbain had not fled, would the murder of Duncan
have accomplished anything? Are there good and sufficient
reasons why they should flee ? Do they or any one else show sus-
picion of Macbeth? Is there anything to show that either Mac-
beth or Lady Macbeth had thought of the complications that
might arise through Malcolm and Donalbain ?
or that they had

thought of the possibility that suspicion would point to them?
In point of fact did not circumstances to which they had given
no thought help them in the attainment of their end just as
much as their own deed? Is this a weakness in the construction
PLOT AND PROGRESS
1
5
of the plot, or is it supremely true to life? Is a criminal likely
to take in all the aspects of the deed he commits?
Act III.
Fate Challenged
Topic. The 'Barren Sceptre.'
Hints. The consequences of the deed done in Act II. begin
to unfold significantly in Act III. The first consequence shown
is the effect upon Macbeth's mind when established as king, of
the witches' prophecy concerning Banquo's.descendants.
His hostile intention toward Banquo and Fleance appears
darkly, although significantly first in scene i., openly in scene ii.,
and the result of his ill will is tersely, indeed spectacularly pre-
sented in scene iii.; while the remaining scenes are again
devoted to the consequences of this new deed. And these con-
sequences are first shown in action, as before, on Macbeth's
mind, scene iv., and then, scene v., in reflex influence on the
trend of fate itself as represented by the witches, and finally
in scene vi., upon his subjects, as represented by the talk of
Lenox about the flight of Fleance, the similar flight of Malcolm
and Donalbain, and finally in the talk about Macduff as of one
through whose daring fresh evil or good are portended. These
scenes foreshadow all that follows in fact or in anticipation
throughout the action of Act IV.
aaf'
regards Macbeth, and the
witches, and Macduff's family; they also darkly suggest Mac-
duff's possible revenge.
Is the__reflex action of Macbeth's
jjeed on fate itself, i.e. his
proposition to call fate into the lists, to circumvent prophecy
and control destiny in his own interest, the important event of
Act III.; or is its most important event Banquo's murder? If
the actual fact of the murder of Banquo and the attempt to kill
Fteance has a less fundamental bearing on the progress of the
action than the determination of Macbeth's mind against them,
is it to be concluded that Shakespeare virtually makes Macbeth's
soul the real stage of the action, and so in this play closely ap-
l6 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES:
MACBETH
preaches the method characteristic of the so-called
'
modern
'
psychological drama?
It might be argued that while Banquo's murder was not so
important to the action here as Macbeth'*s attempt to circumvent
fate by murdering him and Fleance, the escape of Fleance was
the external fact of central importance.
But it must be noticed
that this fact is dramatically ineffective. Nothing comes of it,
Fleance is not heard of again, he bears no witness against Mac-
beth and no vengeance comes through him. His escape is made
a symbol instead of an instrument of Macbeth's failure to control
fate by external means. And the main line of movement in the
play is therefore the launching of Macbeth in this act into the
full stream of the struggle between himself and the powers of fate
which he has challenged.
Fate, on her side, in the person of Hecate, accepts the chal-
lenge in scene v., where she appears as the commander of the
witches and as one who has the power to lead their external
jugglery with Macbeth into supernatural and prophetic realms of
influence.
Acr IV.
Fate Deceives
ôpic.
Taking a Bond of Fate.

Hints. The act opens with the witch scene that has already
been prepared for in the third act by Hecate. The appearance
of the witches here may be compared with that in the first act as
being far more grewsome and suggestive of evil.
T]ig.n, they
appeared simply as the announcers of fatej now, they are joined
by Hecate, who not only knows the course of fate, but is also an
active force for evil and takes delight in misleading Macbeth
with dissembling visions, scaring him with baneful prophecies,
and leading him on in his path of evil.

Was not Macbeth on his first meeting with the witches a free
agent, still able in spite of his ambitious aims to choose the right
course? Now he has by his own actions sold himself to evil, and
evil in the semblance~'bf Hecate can lead "Klm^whither she' will
PLOT AND PROGRESS
1
7
for his own utter undoing. Are the witches just as actively on
the side of evil as Hecate, but without her controlling power?
At the beginning of this act, then, we see the result of Mac-
beth's helping on his fate by evil means, namely, his fate has
become one with evil; and just as when fate was favorable to
him, he worked to bring about its prophecies, now that it prophe-
sies things unfavorable, he determines to defy it. Does the scene
of the witches brewing the broth in the caldron serve as a vivid
symbol of the gathering powers of evil which will finally be the
undoing of Macbeth?
How are Macbeth's actions influenced by his last meeting with
the witches ? Does it show lack of wisdom on his part so openly
to avow his intention of puttingMacduff's wifeand children to^the
swoid, or does he imagine he will be considered justified because
of Macduff's defection, or is he determined to cow every one into
subjection by openly showing his hand as a tyrant, or is he simply
rendered reckless by the double dealing of fate which assures
him at the sanie time of personal security and yet warns him of
Macduff ?
Does the scene in which MacdufT's wife and children are mur-
dered have any bearing upon the development of the dramatic
motive ? Observe that in it Macbeth's cruelty is presented in its
most intensive form. Compare the three murder scenes, showing
how the first is done out of sight of the audience, while the feel-
ings of Macbeth before and after are shown very intimately to the
audience. In the second one the murder is shown direcdy, but
the victims come upon the scene only momentarily and then dis-
appear, while the feelings of Macbeth, though indicated, are not
shown so intimately. In the third, the cruelty of the murder is
emphasized through the audience being put in sympathy with the
victims by a pathetic domestic scene, while the murderers appear
simply as slaughterers. Of Macbeth's feelings we see nothing
;
that is, Macbeth has been moved entirely without the range of the
sympathy of the audience, and the victims have been brought
within its range. The cruelty of the murder is still more empha-
l8
sized by the fact that the victims are not in any way dangerous to
Macbeth.
How can Macduff's leaving his wife and children unprotected
be explained ? Is it demanded simply by the exigencies of the
plot, or are there good and sufficient actual reasons why it was
necessary for him to take this step ?
In scene iii., the forces of retribution begin to gather strength.
Is anything gained by the doubts casTupon Macduff both byliis
wife and Malcolm ? Do they simply emphasize the extent of Mac-
beth's cruelty and machinations : first, by showing that Macduff's
only possible hope was in fleeing to England for help, not only for
Scotland, but for the protection of his home, which he could no
longer defend single handed
;
second; by showing what plots Mac-
beth had laid in order to get Malcolm into his power ?
Does the entrance of the doctor in this scene, and his talk
about the cures effected by the pious Edward, serve any purpose
whatever in the plot ?
Taken as a whole, may this scene be said to represent the quiet
gathering of the forces that are to overwhelm Macbeth, its slow
movement like the sullen pause which precedes the outbreak of a
storm, while, to carry the simile farther, the news of the murder
of Macduff's wife and children is the lightning flash that lets loose
the storm in all its fury.
Act V.
Fate Conquers
Topic TVt
'
Bloody Head.'
Hints.
Act V. brings home to Macbeth and his

'
partner of
greatness ' the triumph of the fate they themselves have given its
power over them. This triumph is portrayed as asserting itself
first over Lady Macbeth, secretly, through its effect upon her mind.
Scene i. shows how she has miscalculated her own strength to
act ruthlessly. She is revealed in the sleep-walking scene as one
of that class of believers in evil whose error is most of all against
human nature. The heart and head she thought could be bent
\
PLOT AND PROGRESS
19
upon any design by her own will, rebel through their own sound-
ness and delicacy. Is it likely, judging by this scene alone, that
her final death by suicide is the end Shakespeare meant for her as
the most characteristic and artistic consummation of her part ?
Is the announcement of her death
'
by self and violent hands
'
in the last scene of the play foreshadowed in this ? What line of
this scene gives the hint ?
Does the drama show that her heart and her head have been
equally distressed in secret by the violence she has done her
capacity for goodness ? That is, does she reach the condition
in which this scene unveils her, through her head,
by seeing,
finally, how endless are the consequences of a violent deed, entail-
ing ever new risks and chances of ruin for the sake of security in
power ? Or do you think that she has reached remorse through
her squeamish heart which has not been able to share in blood
without an irresistible shrinking and physical horror that has swal-
lowed up her command of her own consciousness ?
What hght do the speeches which Shakespeare gives the
'
Gen-
tlewoman
'
in her talk with the Doctor in this scene throw upon
Lady Macbeth's character ? Are they meant to reflect the view of
normal womanhood ? And is Lady Macbeth meant to appear by
contrast with such a type, or as essentially of the same type ?
Is the anguish and death of Lady Macbeth necessary to the
plot externally, either through its influence upon Macbeth or upon
his subjects, by acquainting them with the foul play and so rousing
rebellion ? Or is it necessary to the plot, internally,
as an ele-
ment contributing to the consummation of destiny and retribution ?
Scene ii. shows the powers of fate about to center externally
upon Macbeth and force a hard-fought retribution by actual deeds.
Does scene iii. show that Macbeth is in any respect privately open,
as Lady Macbeth was open, through a misgiving heart, to the
impending triumph of fate over him ? Is any such feeling of inse-
curity positive enough
external enough
to conquer his soul ?

His obduracy may be a sign of his obtuseness or of his supersti-
tious faith in the oracle. Which is it ?
20
What effect is produced by the representation of Macbeth in
scene iii. as being irritated by the Doctor's answer to liis ques-
tion if medicine can help a
'
mind diseased
'
? Why is he so sen-
sitive to the force of the Doctor's reply
that to such sorrows

the patient must minister to himself ? Does it suggest that Mac-
beth is cut by a haunting suspicion he wishes not to entertain
that his deliverance from his heart sickness cannot be won by

external aid ?
Does Macbeth's talk with the messenger as to the English force
reveal his grosser fears, his talk with the Doctor about Lady Mac-
beth, his finer ones ?
Scene iv. brings one stage nearer the outward instruments fate is
using,
Malcolm, Macduff, and the English army. How does it

identify the advance of the army with the prophecy?
Scene v. is made to show through its exposition of Macbeth's
alternately benumbed and desperate moods, both the imminence
of his defeat and the stings of his own forebodings of the evil due
him. Does he show his weakness most by his apathy or by his
violence ?
The last shreds of the mask Fate has worn in order to lure him
on are cast aside in scenes vi. and vii. What is the bearing of the
lines
'Why should I play the Roman fool and die on mine own
sword? ' Did he, virtually, in an inner sense, die finally as a result
of his own sword's thrust against another ? In murdering Duncan,
did he as good as kill himself, if he only knew it ? Would suicide
have shown that his conscience had power over him to accuse him
of killing another in order to gain an advantage for himself ? Did
Lady Macbeth's show that hers had such power?
Is either his suicide, or else Macduffs success in killing him,
dramatically called for by the construction of the play? Which
best suits it, and why ?
Is the bringing in upon the stage of Macbeth's
'
bloody head
'
necessary to the close of the play, because it fulfills the oracle, or be-
cause it is a fitting end of Macbeth's story, and a perfect sequel in
its likeness and contrast with the end of his
'
partner of greatness ' ?
PART II. THE CHARACTERS AND THEIR
RELATIONS
In
'
Macbeth ' it is peculiarly true that the different characters
who play their parts in the plot cannot be taken away from their
relationship to the central character of Macbeth himself. They
can neither be separately treated nor considered primarily in
groups by themselves, and secondarily in relation with Macbeth.
Gloster and his sons, in
'
Lear,' for example, can be separately
treated both as separate characters and as a group of characters
having primary relations with one another, and a secondary rela-
tion with King Lear and his misfortunes. Can a similar group be
found in
*
Macbeth
'
?
Macduff and Malcolm, in the latter part of the play, may be
considered separately in their relations to each other ; but is not
their separate grouping that of characters not primarily but second-
arily related to each other, and first of all to Macbeth ?
Lady Macbeth is so vital and influential a personage that she
tempts the reader or hearer of the play to conceive of her outside
the plot, and in other conjecturable relationships
;
but aside from
the fact that it is Shakespeare's touch which creates the. tempta-
tion, is that touch anywhere responsible for a portrayal of her that
is independent of her relation to Macbeth and his tragic acts?
In the portrayal of Banquo, too, it may be asked if Shakespeare
has anywhere lavished superfluous power on him so as to make
him stand out in higher relief as an individual character than was
requisite for 'his relation to Macbeth, and to the successive stages
of that hero's tragic progress toward disaster.
How is it with Duncan ?
The minor parts in any play are more detachable from the cen-
tral plot than the main parts, precisely because of their unimpor-
tance. But, in another way, through those more external and
passive relations to the central action which cut them off from it
in a measure, they are of use to the main figures of the plot in
giving them background and Hfelikeness. And compared with
this function all else about them is unimportant.
The Doctor's
and the Gentlewoman's parts are examples of this. Although
important in this way, and not to be neglected in that relation,
they are otherwise unimportant. The peculiar importance of
the relation of Hecate and the Witches to Macbeth, whether to
cause the action or merely luridly to light it up and influence its
trend, is debatable ground, and their value in this play should
have the separate consideration given it in the following section
of this study.
In the remaining minor parts,
those of the Sergeant, the

King's Sons, the Porter, the Old Man, the Murderers, Ross,
I>ennox and 'Another Lord,' Lady Macduff and her Son, the
two Siwards,
are any of them painted in higher relief than is

needful to relate them to the main action, and to provide the right
background and color to tone in with or bring out the major part ?
Macbeth.
Show how the characters presented before Mac-

beth's first appearance on the stage serve to portend him
;
how
the Witches cloud him beforehand with the promise of something
sinister in him ; how the Sergeant and Ross wreathe him with
glory ; how Duncan and Malcolm reveal themselves only so much
as serves to usher in Macbeth and tell his story.
The Sergeant alone in this scene strikes out with some per-
sonal vividness. Why? His speech affords a gUmpse of the bat-
tle fury, the over-excitement of loyal enthusiasm. His wild and
whirhng words, vehement almost to bombast and disjointed with
suppressed suffering, recount Macbeth's soldiership
;
but it is as
if with the selfsame light he is made to throw on Macbeth we
see him, also, the torchbearer. It is for an instant, only. Then
his
*
gashes cry for help,' and his dramatic purpose accompUshed,
he passes into darkness.
Scene ii. presents Macbeth as he appears to the world, scene
THE CHARACTERS
23
iii. as he really is in his nature. What are you led to see that is,
and how is the promise of the sinister in his nature given by the
Witches reconciled with the nobility and valor of which scene ii.
assured us ?
Why does he enter saying,
'
So foul and fair a day I have not
seen.' Does he mean merely that the weather is fitful or that it
is actually the worst of
days as to weather, yet is, in result to him,
the best of days, because of the great personal success he has
achieved upon it ? Is it likelier that Shakespeare would introduce
his tragic hero with a commonplace, or with a word significant of
the sense of power and restless ambition with which the flush of
his success in war had filled him? What reasons can be given,
however, to show that it is a saying referring to a matter of fact,
echoing effectively the witches' words in the opening^ scene, and
not a subjective saying reflecting Macbeth's mood?
Upon the entrance of the witches, Macbeth's words and his
silences during which Banquo takes the initiative are suggestively
commingled. Judging from both of these, from the expressions
and the implications, how do you think Macbeth takes the
witches? Is it at once clear, or is it here purposely left doubtful
whether their prophecy meets his ambition half way, and whether
the murder of the king is in his mind? Do you consider that he
dismisses the idea of murder when he proposes to leave his king-
ship to chance ? Or that it is precisely this temporizing with the
idea which serves not to clear it from his mind, but to fasten it
upon him?
It may be questioned whether it is the part of virtue to leave
the future of a bad design loose to fate and fitting opportunity, or
to will at once with all One's might against it. Does Shakespeare
leave us in no doubt as to Macbeth's lack of inner virtue to resist
temptation at the close of this scene, yet in doubt enough as to
just what course externally his now unmasked desires may take ?
What light do his closing words to Banquo and his bearing and
speeches throughout the rest of this act throw on this question?
Chance, it seems, begins at once, instead of crowning him with-
24
out his stir, by throwing serious obstacles in his way, through the
king's making his son Prince of Cumberland. But, instead of
submitting to chance readily, he now shows his disposition to
bestir himself against chance.
At this stage of willing that to be which his eye fears yet is
ready to wink at, Lady Macbeth is introduced. She interprets him
and shows his duller wits and weaker will a way to grapple with
chance by means of chance. He has recognized the obstacle
chance has just thrown in his way. She recognizes an bpportunity
to offset the obstacle in the visit of the king to Inverness. But
the question is, does she interpret the Thane aright?
Does
Shakespeare mean to show, in your opinion, that the latter's wife
knows him better than he knows himself, or that her estimate is
like a wife's, mistaken ?
In the last scene of the act how is Macbeth's backing out of the
projected deed to be construed with relation to his character? Is
it a genuine struggle of the will toward virtue, although at the elev-
enth hour? Or is it a failure of the will to proceed without pro-
crastination in a steep and risky undertaking?
Is fear of others, never of himself, the key to Macbeth's charac-
ter, and the cause of his downfall? Does Lady Macbeth read his
remorse aright when she calls his
*
flaws and starts ' the
'
impost-
ers to true fear'? The element of fear in Macbeth's portraiture
comes often to the front, as Professor Pattee points out in a brief
article, 'Fear in Macbeth' (see Poet-lore, January,
1898, p.
92),
and Lady Macbeth noticeably fastens on this tendency to fear in
order to influence him. Later she learned how dangerous a goad
it was to use.
Is the physical valor of such a soldier and leader as Macbeth
has been shown to be consistent with moral cowardice ? If Shake-
speare has thus quailingly presented
'
Bellona's bridegroom,' is it a
mistake or not? It suggests the questions. Is Macbeth's courage
constitutional or acquired ? Is the early description of his natural
valor (I. ii.
16-23)
gainsaid by I. vii.
39-41, 79
and 80,
IV. i.
85,
V.
5-
9-13?
THE CHARACTERS
2$
Scenes ii. and iii. of Act II. resemble scenes ii. and iii. of Act I.
in presenting different aspects of Macbeth's cliaracter, one from the
inside point of view, as it were, the other from the outside. The
effect upon Macbeth himself alone of the murder he has done
comes out in his talk about it with his other self Lady Macbeth
;
the other shows the effect of his deed upon his character in
the light of publicity. In this third scene where he has to face
public opinion and possible suspicion, what sign of the shrinking
of the preceding scene does he show? Before Macduff and Len-
nox an instant's faltering would have risked the reward for which
he did the murder. Does he permit himself any outlet ? Are
there any sincere utterances from him in this scene ? Why did he
kill the two chamberlains? Is this a mistake in policy?
In his remaining actions throughout the play should you con-
clude that there was any sign of new traits hitherto hidden in his
character, or is all henceforth but the accumulating effect upon his
cliaracter of his master motive, the safe indulgence of his egotistic
ambition ?
How does his childlessness affect his action ?
*
Macd. He has
no children' (IV. iii.
215).
Is Macduff thinking of Malcolm or
of Macbeth ?
In the scene with the physician does he reveal merely the natu-
ral weariness of his perpetual fight for security, or does he here at
last betray a wholesome suspicion that the root of such difficulties
is not external but internal ? It is significant that his queries about
the cure of a mind diseased refer to others
to Lady Macbeth
and Scotland, not to himself. The situation suggests Shakespeare's
moral
that the root of their disease is his disease, and his, like
theirs, craves an internal cure. Does he apply to himself the
principle he seems so near to applying to others, for an instant,
and then abandon it ; or is it due to the dramatic perfection of the
moral implication here, that he is made to unveil to us the saving
truth which is blank to him?
This is, perhaps, the last gleam of inward strength. What signs
remain that show a stubbornly increasing, insensibility ? Does his
26
physical bravery ever falter, or does that increase as moral sensi-
tiveness decreases ? How do the witches influence this, and what
further light on Macbeth's philosophy of life does his preference
to depend on them show?
How do you think Macbeth looked?
What do you gather were his powers of mind? In particular,
how does the imaginative faculty he shows, often in such strong
contrast to Lady Macbeth's literalness, blend with his practical
ability as a great general ?
Is his image-making speech really due to Shakespeare, and not
in keeping with the character, yet suitably employed in the play
because effective in dramatically exhibiting the situations? Dis-
cuss this, pro and con.
Banquo.
It is evident upon the first appearance of Banquo

with Macbeth that there is a contrast between the two successful
captains. Banquo' s manner of regarding the witches differs from
Macbeth's and makes it more noticeable. What are the differ-
ences? How are they shown, and what do they lead you to infer
as to Banquo's character?
At the first mention of Banquo, before his appearance on the
stage, what importance on his part, separably from Macbeth, is
promised, and how much then appears that is characteristic of
him?
In the scene with the king, after the witch scene, the relation
between the king and Banquo is more loving and personal than
that between the king and Macbeth. How do you account for
this? Are there any signs that he was envious of Macbeth's high
rewards in which he had no share, although he shared in the
same work? Did Banquo show himself superior to reward?
What indications of uneasiness as to Macbeth's character or
designs does he betray? Was he subservient to Macbeth? Was
his dialogue with him before the murder adapted to arouse or
lull his suspicions? In his action on the fatal night was he
stupid or charitable, weak or discreet, or shrewdly politic?
How much does.he suspect the next morning?
THE CHARACTERS 29
Could he have really done anything before or then to affect a
different outcome of events? Since it would have spoiled the
tragedy if he had, it is to be assumed that he did not for good
and sufficient reasons arising from his character or from the
situation, or both; otherwise it must be concluded either that
Shakespeare simply followed the Holinshed story without putting
human nature into it at this point, or else that he is artificial
here, compelled by his dramatic scheme instead of powerful to
make it both right in art and true to nature. This question as
to Banquo is therefore a 'necessary question
'
of the play. Does
his character in relation with the facts of the situation have its
due share in the tragic result?
What do you conceive his character to have been? Is it wisely
left open Ijy Shakespeare as to what it certainly was, while yet
it is clear that his forbearance to intervene was characteristic of
him, and was a factor in the plot? Or does Shakespeare show
that the witches' prophecy in favor of his sons was potent in
making him connive, by silence, in Macbeth's success?
What does his manner of receiving the news that next morning
signify? Does his proposition to hold a council supply a clew?
Is it probable that he was overborne against his will in the coun-
cil as to Macbeth's accession to the throne as the cousin of the
late king; or is it likelier, judging from the talk in Act III.
sc. i., that Macbeth was crowned with at least the tacit approval
of Banquo? Why did Banquo go to the coronation while Mac-
duff did not? Compare the suspicions and the actions of Mac-
duff and Banquo after the murder. Was Banquo an observing
man?
Is it likely that the grievance the murderers have against Ban-
quo was really due to him, or was it foisted on him by Mac-
beth? W^hat is Macbeth's real opinion of Banquo? What
bearing on his character and part in the play have Banquo's
last words?
Lady Macbeth. The first folio gives the stage direction upon
Lady Macbeth's first entrance, thus: 'Macbeth's Wife alone with
26
a Letter.' This initial appearance seems to strike the keynote of
the relation she bears to her husband and to the drama.
The first mention of her is just prior to her appearance, and it
is her husband who mentions her, his first thought after the king's
speech in the preceding scene being to join her. This letter
must have been sent to her before he met the king. Its first
words, 'They,' etc., referring to a preceding mention of the
witches, show that the passage read aloud is but a part, evidently
the closing part, of a longer story. But it need not be supposed,
on this account, that a part of the play has been lost. Obviously,
the news of the battle and the witches' greeting, already known
to the audience and therefore not repeated, has gone before, and
what is given is all that is needed to advance the plot. This
much is new matter, not in the facts related, but in the attitude
of the Macbeths toward them.
This way of reporting the facts shows how much they mean
jointly to this husband and wife. It is evident from the letter
that the two are a unit, not merely in love and general sympathy,
but that Macbeth'swife is of such a nature and bears such a rela-
tion to him that she is in his confidence in hidden aims and
practical affairs in away, for example, that Hotspur's wife is not.
(See
'
I Henry IV.,' II. iii. 106-1x5.)
Is it implied, too, that the Thane and his wife have indulged
together in ambitious desires? Although any particular plan for
superseding Duncan cannot now be inferred, is there not a blind
suggestion in the excitement both show, Macbeth in his letter,
and his wife in reading his letter, of a guilty project which, when
Lady Macbeth speaks of such a project more distinctly, later on
(I. vii.
44-49),
makes the mind recur then to this dimmer hint of
the same thing.
The effect of the letter on Lady Macbeth is certainly instant
and peculiar. No explicit description of the action, which it is
the office of the dramatist to set forth in his first act, could pro-
duce a more positive effect than is shadowed forth here indirectly,
through the medium of Lady Macbeth's character. Show how
THE CHARACTERS
29
this impression of what the action of the play is to be comes out in
her monologue, and afterward in her treatment of the messenger.
What do you gather of the lady herself, meanwhile, as to the
sensitiveness of her perceptions, the quickness of her mind?
What does her estimate of her husband amount to in throwing
light upon herself as well as on him? What does she mean by
saying that he is full of the 'milk of human kindness'? It is
commonly taken to be complimentary to him, but it may be
doubtful whether she thought it so; and that not because she was
evil-minded, but because she was keen-minded. Is it possible
that it is a half contemptuous description of him, as not developed
above the general run of men in mating his intentions with per-
formance? She prides herself on understanding clearly and
without confusion the practical necessities of success, as the
easy-going, general run of human beings do not. So, to her,
in this respect of not knowing himself, he is something of a
milksop. Compare the usual meaning of 'kind
'
and 'kindness
'
in Shakespeare, which is often equivalent to the common nature
and the common weakness, and not always, as now, to gentleness
or any considerateness of others.
Notice the adjuration to herself afterward that her 'milk be
gall,' and no 'compunctious visitings of nature' shake her pur-
pose. But is she lacking in the fiber to meet facts? Has she
the grit to disregard general opinion and form her own ideas and
purposes independently, while at the same time she is aware that
she has to guard against a feminine shrinking from blood and
wounds? She is feminine in the sense of having a delicate,
nature and instincts against physical force and cruelty, while her.
husband, in comparison, is masculine, having no repugnance of'*
that particular kind. See his slaughter of Macdonwald and the
chamberlains.
Does she put as much faith in the witches as Macbeth does?
Does she doubt them or only not depend upon them ? Notice
how she speaks of
'
metaphysical aid ' {i.e. supernatural) as seem-
ing to crown him. Also, how she does not for an instant propose
30
to rely upon it, but to take sufficient practical steps toward it her-
self through her own will power. Later in the play, does she
share at all in her husband's trust in the witches? Why not?
Was Banquo more pious than either Macbeth or his wife, and
therefore less open to the witch-influence? Were the other two,
as far as they might be in that day, liberals in thought, and would
this affect their attitude toward the witches? Does the difference
between the husband and the wife in their susceptibility to the
witch-influence throw any light on the difference in their minds
and characters?
Judging from Lady Macbeth's relations with her husband
throughout the play, do the facts authorize the assumption that
Macbeth was a good man led astray by his wife, or that he was
an evil-minded man, craving the encouragement and plausible
policy to launch him in his aims which his_îfe's character was
weTMitted to supply? On the latter supposition, it is evident that
sTieTitd notTohg reenforce him in this way. ^When did she stop,
and why?
Notice how her encouragement of him arose. When did Mac-
beth 'break this enterprise' to her? Does she refer in these
words (L vii.
47)
to the letter, or to some personal talk before?
Compare her relations with him before and after the murder in
respect to her lesser or greater influence upon him and her fore-
knowledge of his plans. Why does she ask,
'
What do you mean
'
?
(IL ii.
40, 44.)
Do you ever suspect that her literalness is meant
to rouse her husband out of his fancies by her appeal to fact, or
is she merely less imaginative and more matter-of-fact than he is?
If she includes herself in her
'
us ' in IL ii., this is eloquent of her
own quailing heart presaging her future woe. Is it a natural or a
desperate act of bravery for her to take the daggers back herself
to the bedchamber where the corpse lay?
Observe how much more she talks before her swoon than after-
ward. Do you think this due to the necessities of the plot, or is
it intended to indicate a change wrought in her?
If Lady Macbeth's mind was merely hard, glib, and superficial,
THE CHARACTERS
31
or commonplace and practical only, would she have lost the reins
over Macbeth so steadily as she does throughout the rest of the
play ? Would she not, instead, have grown in evil along with him ?
What signs are there that she is aware of a widening breach
between herself and her husband? Does she disapprove of his
course in any way on the morning after the murder?
Notice what share she has in each of jNIacbeth's further actions.
Ask whether she fears the murder of Banquo or connives in it
(III. ii. I,
35,
;^S,
44).
Does she first suggest the murder of
Fleance and Banquo? With what meaning does she say 'But in
them nature's copy's not eterne ' ? Is her conduct at the banquet
tactful or perfunctory, betraying her own hopelessness ? Had she
no share in the Macduff horror ?
In the sleep-walking scene two actions are prominent,
the
letter-writing and the washing of her hands. Why, do you sup-
pose, did Shakespeare single out these two? How far are her
sleep-walking words and actions repetitions of her earlier ones?
How many are new, and what do these bring out ?
The Physician pities her. Why ? What does he fear when he
cautions the Gentlewoman (V. i.
83-85)
?
Are the different effects Shakespeare arouses of pity for Lady
Macbeth in her end, and horror of Macbeth in his, morally justifi-
able if they were equally to blame ? How do their different ends
affect this question ?
Is it likely that Shakespeare would not have made Lady Mac-
beth kill herself, and that this is an interpolation of another hand ?
Or is this undeniably his touch, great enough for him, suitable to
her character, and fit companion with the chmax that came, after
a similar significant silence, to another tragic queen
the Jokasta
of Sophokles ? (See
'
CEdipus Tyrannus.')
PART III. THE SUPERNATURAL IN 'MAC-
BETH,' AND ITS RELATION TO THE PLOT
The three witches at once suggest to the mind the Three Fates
or Parcae of classical mythology
Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos,

who presided over life : Clotho spins the thread of life
;
Lachesis
determines its length ; and Atropos cuts it off. According to
Hesiod, Night produced the
*
ruthlessly punishing Fates . . . who
assign to men at their births to have good and evil ; who alsb
pursue transgressions both of men and gods, nor do the goddesses
ever cease from dread wrath, before that, I wot, they have repaid
sore vengeance to him, whoever shall have sinned.' In the
Homeric Hymn to Hermes we find a description of them as
follows (Chapman's translation) :
'
There dwell
Within a crooked cranny, in a dell
Beneath Parnassus, certain sisters born,
Called Parcae, whom extreme swift wings adorn;
Their number three, that have upon their heads
White barley-flour still sprinkled, and are maids;
And these are schoolmistresses of things to come.
Without the gift of prophecy. Of whom
(Being but a boy, and keeping oxen near)
I learned their skill, though my great Father were
Careless of it, or them. These flying from home
To others' roofs, and fed with honeycomb.
Command all skill, and (being enraged then)
Will freely tell the truths of things to men.
But if they give them not that God's sweet meat.
They then are apt to utter their deceit,
And lead men from their way.'
Compare this classical notion of the Fates with the witches as
they appear in
'
Macbeth
'
; also with the Scandinavian idea of
32
THE SUPERNATURAL
33
the Fates as represented in the Norse Norns. Spaulding, in his
'
Elizabethan Demonology,' is of the opinion that the witches of
*
Macbeth
' are not witches at all, but are intimately allied to the
Norns or Fates of Scandinavian mythology. Another writer, in
the Academy (Feb.
8,
1879),
thinks that they are hybrids between
Norns and witches. The proofs adduced are as follows : each
witch exercises the especial function of a Norn ; the first takes
cognizance of the past, the second of the present, while the third
prophesies. Such are the functions of the three Norns
Urda,
Verdandi, and Skulda. It is also claimed that Banquo's descrip-
tion of the three witches (I. iii.
39)
better fits Norns than witches.
On the other hand, contemporary descriptions of witches may
be cited to prove that Shakespeare meant them to be witches.
For instance, Scot, in his
*
Discoverie of Witchcraft ' (see Part VII.
of this volume), says witches are
'
women which commonly be old,
lame, bleare-eied, pale, fovvle, and full of wrinkles ; they are leane
and deformed, showing melancholic in their faces
'
; while another
writer describes a witch as
'
an old, weather-beaten crone, having
her chin and knees meeting for age, walking hke a bow, leaning
on a staff, hollow-eyed, untoothed, furrowed, having her Hmbs
trembling with palsy, going mumbling in the streets
;
one that
hath forgotten her paternoster, yet hath a shrewd tongue to call a
drab a drab.' (See Dyer's
*
Folk-lore of Shakespeare.')
What other facts in the characterization of the witches may be
used.^^_
proof
that Shakespeare had jn mind witches rather than
I^rns? The names Graymalkin, Paddock, and probably Har-
pier also are suggestive of witches, the first standing for cat, the
second for toad, and the third for dog, all of which animals were
familiars of witches. Steevens (quoted in Furness Variorum) tells
of a representation of St. James painted by Hell Brengel in
1566,
which
*
exhibits witches flying up and down the chimney on brooms,
and before the fire sits grimalkin and paddock, t.e. a cat and a
toad, with several baboons. There is a cauldron boiling, with a
witch near it cutting out the tongue of a snake as an ingredient
for the charm.' Scot ('Discoverie of Witchcraft') remarks that
34
'
some say that witches can keepe devils and spirits in the likenes
of todes and cats.' Dyer also points out that in
'
German legenc
and traditions we find frequent notice of witches assuming th<j
form of a cat, and displaying their fiendish character in certair
diabolical acts.' But though they had the power of changing
themselves into animals, they were hampered by the fact that the
animals into which they metamorphosed themselves were without
tails, so that they were liable to be discovered. The First Witch
evidently has in mind such a metamorphosis (I. iii.
9)
when she
declares, 'And like a rat without a tail, I'll do, I'll do, I'll do.'
Witches were also thought to have the power of creating storms,
as the following account, given in Dyer's
'
Folk-lore of Shakespeare,'
illustrates :
'
Agnes Sampson, a reputed witch, vowed that at the
time his Majesty (James VI.) was in Denmark she took a cat and
christened it, and afterwards bound to that cat the chiefest parts
of a dead man, and several joints of his body ; and that in the
night following the said cat was conveyed into the midst of the
sea by herself and other witches, sailing in their riddles or crieves,
and so left the said cat right before the town of Leith in Scotland.
This done, there arose such a tempest in the sea, as a greater hath
not been seen, which tempest was the cause of the perishing of a
boat or vessel coming from the town of Brunt Island to the town
of Leith, wherein were sundry jewels and rich gifts, which should
have been presented to the new Queen of Scotland at his Majesty's
coming to Leith. Again, it is confessed that the said christened
cat was the cause of the King's majesty's ship, at his coming forth
of Denmark, having a contrary wind to the rest of the ships then
being in his company, which thing was most strange and true, as
the King's majesty acknowledged.'
Observe that Shakespeare's witches meet in thunder and light-
ning, and seem generally to have the power of controlling tempests
and winds.
The occupation of killing swine (I. iii.
2),
indulged in by the
Second Witch, is also characteristic of hei" kind. Steevens (quoted
in the Furness Variorum) refers to an account called
'
A Detec-
THE SUPERNATURAL
35
tion of Damnable Driftes Prat*\ized by Three Witches, etc.,
1579,'
which tells of a witch that
'
came on a tyme to the house of one
Robert Lathburie, etc., . . . who, dislyking her dealyng, sent her
home emptie ;
but presently after her departure his hogges
fell sicke
and died to the number of twentie.' (See also Dyer's
'
Folk-lore
of Shakespeare.')
Still other well-known witch characteristics may be noted. For
example, Dyer points out that the sieve, as a symbol of the clouds,
has been regarded amongst all nations of the Aryan stock as the
mythical vehicle used by witches, nightmares, and other elfish
beings in their excursions over land and sea. He also calls atten-
tion to an extract from the
'
Life of Doctor Fian,' quoted by Stee-
vens, which tells of a notable sorcerer, burnt at Edinburgh, January,
159
1
;
how that he and a number of witches went to sea, each one
in a riddle or eive. Thus the First Witch (L iii.
8)
declares 'but
in a sieve I'll thither sail.' Witches were also in the habit of danc-
ing, of vanishing into the air, of brewing ointments from various
horrible ingredients, to be used as charms. A favorite practice
with them was to make a wax figure of any one they wished to
harm, and this they would stick through with pins, or melt before
a slow fire. As the figure wasted so also would the person it repre-
sented waste away. They could tell the future by the way in which
corn grows, and the numbers they used to conjure with were fre-
quently multiples of three and nine, though odd numbers in gen-
eral are acceptable to witches. (See Dyer.) Do the witches in
'Macbeth' illustrate all these points in witch characteristics? (Fur-
ther studies upon the folk-lore of the witches may be made from
Scot's
'
Discoverie of Witchcraft,' Henderson's
'
Folk-lore of the
Northern Countries,' Conway's
'
Demonology and Devil-lore,' Sir
Walter Scott's
'
Demonology and Witchcraft,' Douce,
'
Illustrations
of Shakespeare,' Rolfe's Notes.)
From all this it will appear that Shakespeare certainly drew
upon the folk-lore of the time in his characterization of the
witches.
Is there not, however, an element in their natures left unex-
36
SHAKESPEARE STTjj )IES : MACBETH
plained, if we regard them simpRas Scotch witches? With the
spread of Christianity in the Middle Ages, the degeneration of
classical gods and goddesses into fairies and evil spirits was gen-
eral; while to the degenerated mythical being were attached all
sorts of current superstitions. May not Shakespeare's witches in
'Macbeth
'
be examples of degenerated Fates, to whom have been
added the current witch superstitions, themselves, many of them,
survivals from ancient witch superstitions? Which seems the
more probable, that Shakespeare consciously combined the char-
acteristics of the Fates and witches, or that he found them
combined in the current folk-lore of the day?
How much was he dependent upon the hints in Holinshed's
account of Macbeth's encounter with the witches? (See Second
Section of this volume, 'Shakespeare's Literary Material.')
The part of Hecate in the play has been objected to by some
critics on the score of its mixing up classical mythology with
witch superstitions current at the time. Hecate's speeches have
also been considered so inferior, poetically, as to lead to the
supposition that her part is not by Shakespeare at all. (See
Rolfe's 'Macbeth,'
p. 222, note on sc. v.
p. 227,
note on sc. ii.)
As to the first point : various editors have shown that the con-
necting of Hecate or Diana, or some other classical goddess,
with witches was customary at the time; for example. Toilet calls
attention to the fact that Scot, in his 'Discoveries of Witchcraft,'
mentions it as the common opinion of all writers that witches
were supposed to have nightly 'meetings with Herodias and the
Pagan gods,' and 'that in the night-times they ride abroad with
Diana, the goddess of the Pagans.' Their dame, or chief leader,
seems always to have been an old Pagan, as
'
The Ladie Sibilla,
Minerva or Diana.' Todd reminds us that in Jonson's 'Sad
Shepherd,' II. iii., Maudlin, the witch, calls Hecate the mistress
of
witches.
It is not, however, necessary to depend upon contemporary
opinion to uphold Shakespeare for introducing Hecate as mistress
of the witches, for the classical Hecate was regarded, especially.
THE SUPERNATURAL
37
'as the mistress of sorcery and witchcraft. Her characteristics
are
well summarized as follows in Harper's 'Dictionary of
Mythology.'
'Unknown to Homer, but in Hesiod she was the only daughter
of the Titan Perses and of Asteria (see Bohn's Hesiod "The-
ogony," 407-451).
She stood high in the regard of Zeus, from
whom she had received a share in the heaven, earth, and ocean.
She was invoked at all sacrifices, for she could give or withhold
her blessing in daily life, in war, in contests on the sea, in the
hunting-field, in the education of children, and in the tending of
cattle. Thus, she appeared as the personification of divine
power, and was the instrument through which the gods effected
their will, though themselves far away. In later times she was
confused with Persephone, the queen of the lower world, or asso-
ciated with her. Sometimes she was regarded as the goddess of
the moon or as Artemis. Being conceived of as a goddess of
night or the lower world, she was, as time went on, transformed
into a deity of ghosts and magic. She was represented as haunt-
ing crossways and graves, accompanied by the dogs of the Styx,
with the spirits of the dead and troops of spectral forms in her
train. She lent powerful aid to all magical incantations and
witches' work. All enchanters and enchantresses were her dis-
ciples and prottig^s. Medea was, in particular, regarded as her
votary.
'
There are many examples in classical literature showing that
the belief in witchcraft was widespread. (The student who cares
to assure himself of this fact may look the matter up in 'Petro-
nius, '
63;
Apuleius, 'Metamorphoses,' Book I.; Tibullus, I.
5;
Ovid, 'Fasti,' VI.
133,
fob; and Fest.
314;
Horace, 'Epod.' V.)
Especially interesting in connection with Shakespeare's Hecate
and witches is the story of Medea and ^son, told in Ovid,
'Metamorphoses,' Book VII. (The translation we give in Sec-
ond Section of this volume. Part VII., is one made by Golding,
and probably the one known to Shakespeare ; for, setting
'
Mac-
beth
'
aside, there are resemblances between passages in it and
38
I
the 'Midsummer Night's Dream
'
too remarkable to be acci
dental. Golding's translation is known to have appeared i;
seven editions between
1565
and
1587.)
The story of Canidia, in Horace,
'
Satire VIII.' (see Second
Section, Part VIII.), bears witness which should not be over-
looked to the classic witch-lore open to Shakespeare, since the
English translations of the 'Satires' by Evans, and another by
Drant, were current books in the latter half of the sixteenth cen-
tury, although apparently not so popular as Golding's 'Ovid.'
Does not all this prove that the editors who found fault with
Shakespeare for mixing up ancient and modern superstitions
simply showed their own ignorance, first in supposing that witch-
craft was peculiar to the superstition of the day, and second, in
supposing that there was anything odd in
Recife's
being regarded
as the mistress of the witches, since she was in classical times
the presiding deity of witches?
As to the second point, the arguments for and against may be
noted as follows: Dr. William
J.
Rolfe(see 'Some Shakespearian
Questions' in Poet-lore, No.
4, 1899)
says that scene v. of Act
III. is spurious throughout, 'In the first place, the measure of
Hecate's speeches is against the theory that the part is Shake-
speare's. . . . Hecate speaks in iambics, while the eight-syl-
lable lines that Shakespeare puts into the mouth of supernatural
characters
witches, fairies, spirits, etc. are regularly trochaic.

In this scene the two lines of the First Witch are iambic, like
those of the same personage in iv.
2, 125-132, which are also an
obvious interpolation; but elsewhere she and her sisters speak
only in trochaics, when not using the ordinary blank verse, as
occasionally they do.' Against this may be set Mary E. Cardwill's
argument (see 'Hecate in "Macbeth,"
'
Foet-iore,
1898,
No.
4).
'The inferiority of Hecate's words, from a poetic standpoint,
to those of the weird sisters is regarded as the surest proof of her
spuriousness. Is it not rather an evidence of her genuineness as
a creation of Shakespeare? With his subtle sense of discrimina-
tion he made her what she represented to the popular mind : a
THE SUPERNATURAL
39
creature
approaching the reality of the human,
vulgar, prosaic,
practical, yet in power akin to the divine. . . .
Shakespeare
well knew what the name of Hecate implied to the people even
in his time of dawning enlightenment. He knew what words to
put into her mouth to produce a realistic effect, without inter-
fering with his own creative interpretation of her nature.'
Again, Dr. Rolfe thinks that 'every word that Hecate utters is
absurdly out of keeping with the context. In HI. v. she begins
^
by chiding the witches for
"
trading and trafficking
"
with Macbeth '
without calling on her to bear her part. The reference to
"
trad-
ing and trafficking
"
appears to have been suggested by the com-
mon notion that the help of witches was to be secured by a-
bargain with them; and there seems to be a similar reference in
IV. i.
40,
where Hecate, commending the witches, says, "And
every one shall share i' the gains." What can this possibly
mean? What were the "gains" in the business? Macbeth has
offered the witches no bribe, nor have they intimated that they
expect any.
'Besides, as mistress of the witches, Hecate certainly has no
reason to find fault with what they have done, or with the manner
in which Macbeth has acted under their inspiration. She could
not herself have managed the affair better. Wherein, so far as
the witches are concerned, has Macbeth proved "a wayward son,
spiteful and wrathful
"
? . . . Some editors who did not doubt the
authorship of this scene have felt that
"
loves
"
was incongruous
here and have suggested sundry emendations; as ^^ lives for his
own sake"; "loves ê'// for his own sake," etc. But these read-
ings merely substitute one difficulty for another. Why should
Macbeth be supposed to "live
"
or to "love evil
"
for the sake of
the witches rather than his own?
'
It might be replied to these queries that the witches have cer-
tainly been 'trading and trafficking
'
with Macbeth' s moral nature;
and though no actual bargain has been made, he, in responding
1, to their suggestions, has opened negotiations with them at least,
and Hecate is jealous that the witches
these mere announcers

40
of evil
should have succeeded so well with Macbeth without

her superior power for. temptation. They have been usurping
her prerogatives, and for the benefit of a man, who, although he
responds quickly enough to the evil impulses, is not going to give
his allegiance to the evil powers. He is willing to use the devil'*
means, but he is not willing to admit that he is; and this is the
reason Hecate says, 'He loves for his own ends.'
/
To quote the Cardwill argument again: 'Hecate's plain, blunt
words bring us down to earth and to a judgment of Macbeth from
the standpoint of human responsibility; and this, too, at the very
moment when he appears to be yielding himself utterly to the
supernatural powers. The seeming contradiction here is but
another exhibition of the poet's understanding of human nature.
The wilful man determined upon evil willingly believes himself
impelled to it by forces beyond his control. Macbeth, with his
mind made up in the half pretense, half serious act of seeking to
know his destiny, finds the excuse he desires to warrant his future
action.' (For further remarks see the articles in question.)
Another argument brought forward in proof that the part of
Hecate's is not Shakespeare's, is in the fact that there is a
Hecate in Middleton's 'Witch,' a play that is thought to have
antedated 'Macbeth.' As the character is similar, it has been
suggested that Middleton may have added the part of Hecate.
Also, the songs referred to actually occur in Middleton's play.
(See Second Section, Part VHL, 'Literary Illustrations.')
On the other hand, it may be noted that the date of Middle-
ton's play is by no means settled beyond question; that the songs
used by him, and indicated in the stage directions of 'Macbeth
'
may have been popular songs; that Shakespeare may have him-
self borrowed the idea of Hecate and the songs from Middleton,
or, indeed, the whole machinery of the witches. As the date of
Middleton's play is not settled, there is no way of proving
whether Shakespeare borrowed from Middleton or Middleton
from Shakespeare. However, a comparison of Shakespeare's
witches with Middleton's will at once prove the superiority of
THE SUPERNATURAL
-
41
the former. Can it be proved on comparison that Shakespeare's
Hecate is also superior to Middleton's?
Summing up the arguments, it appears that those against the
part of Hecate being Shakespeare's are of an external sort,
depending upon assumptions as to form and style; while those
for its being Shakespeare's attempt to prove that Hecate is an
important element in the development of the fatalistic side of the
drama. (See Hints on Act IV.)
In considering the supernatural element in this play, it should
be remembered that witches were not in themselves supernatural
beings, but human beings in collusion with evil spirits, whose
aid they could always secure by magical practices. The origin
of these magical practices seems to have been the belief among
primitive savages that if you imitate any of the processes of
nature, the actual processes will shortly follow. For example,
the ceremony of rain making is widespread among savage races,
I and_ consists in some crude attempt to represent rain, which is
I
'Relieved to work toward the desired effect and bring rain. _(For
points on sympathetic magic, see Frazer's 'Golden Bough.')
The belief in signs and omens, so important an element in
this play, also goes back to very ancient times and is not neces-
sarily supernatural, but a supernatural interpretation of common
events in nature. Has Shakespeare, in 'Macbeth,' made these
omens truly supernatural because of their strange fitness to human
events, or has he made the characters interpret common, natural
events in a supernatural manner?
With regard to Macbeth himself: the vision he saw of the
,
dagger and the ghost he saw of Banquo might have been purely
subjective phenomena. (See Rolfe's Notes on these points.)
Has Shakespeare made them seem equally subjective or does he
seem to intend the ghost of Banquo to be a materialized sprrit?
With regard to Lady Macbeth : her sleep-walking comes entirely
within the range of the natural. Does she show as much of a
ibelief in signs and omens as Macbeth does?
/ There is a deal of interesting folklore connected with the
42
apparitions the witches show to Macbeth. (For which see
Rolfe's Notes, and this volume, Parts VII. and VIII.)
Shakespeare uses these folklore stories as material for the
oracular utterances of the apparitions, which have a double sig-
nificance and lead Macbeth on to his downfall through arousing
his determination to defy and conquer fate.
In summing up, point out how many different sorts of super-
naturalism there are in the play; which of these enter into the
very warp and woof of the plot, which furnish elements of char-
acterization and atmosphere, which carry the action forward,
which are the result of the action; also, whether the play is one
of destiny in the Greek sense, no human action being strong
enough to turn it aside, or whether the triumph of destiny is
entirely dependent upon Macbeth's weakness of character.
PART IV. LANGUAGE STUDY
Note how the language of the witches is in keeping with their
character, and explain how this is so on account of their allusions.
Do they use many words, expressions, or grammatical construc-
tions that need explanation? (See Rolfe's Notes.) Give ex-
planation of any that require it, and note especially the words
about which there may have been much editorial discussion.
*
Aroint thee,' for example, is explained as
'
Away with thee.' Is
this explanation perfectly satisfactory, or is the reading of the
Third and Fourth Folios, which Dr. Johnson preferred, better?
(See Rolfe's Notes.) An examination of the origin and usages of
this word will throw light on this subject, for which see the
Fumess Variorum
'
Macbeth.' Another view of the meaning of
the word may be found in Poet-lore, No.
3,
1901.
It is always claimed that the language of Hecate is very infe-
rior to that of the witches ; note what the differences are both as
to style and meter, and give opinions as to whether it is fitting it
should differ, and in the way it does. (See
'
The Supernatural in
"Macbeth'"; also Rolfe's Introduction,
p.
12, and Notes; also
Notes to Middleton's 'Witch' in Fumess Variorum.) Even if
Hecate's words were proved, not only inferior in style, but inade-
quate as a representation of her character, would it necessarily
prove that they were not written by Shakespeare ?
On the grounds of inferior language and slovenly meter, sc. ii.
Act I. has been thought by some not to be Shakespeare's. He is
supposed to have been incapable of writing the bombastic lan-
guage of the Sergeant. (See Rolfe,
p. 152.)
Might it not be
argued that by this means of language the poet has in a short
scene
succeeded in characterizing the Sergeant for us? He has
shown him to be not only a Sergeant, but a man with a dis-
43
44
tinct personality
a man of big words, who likes to roll round his

tongue his important information, and who, even when wounded
unto death, retains his habit of speech. The character. Flam-
beau, in Rostand's recent drama,
'
L'Aiglon,' is similar. Though
he has so short a part, he uses a number of words that have been
productive of much talk, such as kerns, gallow glasses, quarrel,
nave. (See Rolfe, and for further opinions the Furness Vario-
rum.) Summing up the opinions upon two readings
quarrel
or quarry
which do you think it likely Shakespeare really wrote,

that which is more easy of interpretation, or that which is more
difficult ?
In hne 21 an interesting point maybe raised as to what is the
antecedent of which. It has generally been taken for granted
that slave is the antecedent. It was suggested in an editorial in
Poet-lore (Vol. XIII. No.
2),
that his in line
14
' Fortune on his

damned quarry smiHng,' and which in line 21
^
Which ne'er
shook hands nor bade farewell to him,' both refer to fortune,
slave, referring to Macdonwald, as
'
Slave of Fortune,' which
{i.e. fortune) stuck to him smilingly up to the last minute until
Macbeth reached him and ripped him up. This interpretation of
the passage has the advantage of making some sense out of the
words just as they stand in the oldest text, that of the First Folio,
1623,
but the question will remain whether it is better to solve
the obscurity of the Sergeant's words thus, or to consider this line
21 corrupt as the Globe editors have marked it.
By what is the language of Duncan characterized ? Is it as far
removed as possible from that of the Sergeant externally yet re-
vealing in both of them a certain transparency of nature ? How
do his speeches compare with the Sergeant's in the matter of
grammar, allusions, and unusual words ? (See Rolfe.) Does his
language, on the whole, reflect intellect or a sort of natural wis-
dom? Give examples of his wise and epigrammatical sayings.
Sir Joshua
Reynolds makes this interesting observation upon the
opening dialogue of scene vi. of Act I. : iThis_short_dialogue
between Duncan and Banquo has always appeared to_me i% striking
LANGUAGE STUDY
45
instance
of what irinaintjn^j5..called^*^^2^.
Their conversation
very
naturally
turns upon the beauty of the situation, and the
pleasantness
of the air ; and Banquo, observing the martlet's nests
in every
recess of the cornice, remarks that where those birds most
breed and haunt the air is delicate. The subject of this quiet and
easy
conversation
gives that repose so necessary to the mind after
the
tumultuous bustle of the preceding scenes, and perfectly con-
trasts the scene of horror that immediately succeeds. It seems as
if Shakespeare asked himself, what is a prince likely to say to his
attendants on such an occasion? Whereas the modern writers
seem, on the contrary, to be always searching for new thoughts,
such as would never occur to men in the situation which is repre-
sented. This, also, is frequently the practice of Homer, who,
from the midst of battles and horrors, relieves and refreshes the
mind of the reader by introducing some quiet rural image or pic-
ture of familiar domestic life.' (Quoted in Furness Variorum.)
Compare this passage with the scene with the Porter (II. iii.),
which has the same effect of relieving the tragic scene of the situa-
tion, though in a different way. Because of the coarseness of the
Porter's remarks, this again has been supposed not to be Shake-
speare's. (For the arguments for and against, see
'
Moot Points,'
in this volume. Part VI.)
Compare the language of Banquo with that of Macbeth, and
note whether there is any essential difference in their way of ex-
pressing themselves.
Compare also the language of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth in
sc. iii. Act I. Show how Macbeth's speech is the more imaginativ'e,
though Lady Macbeth's is not without imaginative touches. Does
their language reflect accurately the temperaments of the two
speakers, or simply the mood of each at that particular time?
Note how their speech compares in other scenes. Is Macbeth's
speech less poetical at times than it is at others, and Lady Mac-
beth's more uniform in its style ? Is there any inherent difference
in the nature of the figures and allusions used, or are the differ-
ences due entirely to the fact that having different parts to play
46
they must of necessity say different things. (For allusions and
unusual expressions, see Rolfe's Notes.) Give all necessary ex-
planations, and note especially any passages that have given rise to
much editorial comment, distinguishing between comments that
seem absurd and those justified by the obscurity of the meaning.
Study the language of the minor characters in the same way and
sum up the results by showing: '(i) which of the characters use
the greatest number of allusions, from what sources they are drawn,
and what relation they bear to the character
;
(2)
which use the
greatest number of poetic figures and of what nature they are
;
(3)
which use the most direct and unvarnished speech
; (4)
in
which are peculiarities of grammar and meter most prominent.
(For remarks on rhyme tags, see Fleay's 'Shakespeare Manual,'
Chap. X.)
;
and
(5)
finally, whether all the characters are definitely
distinguishable from their language alone, or whether some are
more distinguishable than others, and why they are so,
Bodenstedt says the word
'
bloody
'
(I. ii. i) reappears on almost
every page, and runs likeji i:ed_ thread through the whole piece
;
in no other of Shakespeare's dramas is it so frequent. The con-
stant references to signs and omens in nature adds another element
of horror to the drama, and gives the impression of nature's mood
being in sympathy with the moods of men. Do these references
come from all of the characters indiscriminately or only from spe-
cial ones? May the language as a whole be said to reflect as
much the age of Shakespeare as the age of Macbeth ?
Compare the passages given from D'Avenant's version in this,
volume (Part VIII.) with the same passages in Shakespeare, and
observe how the changes in the diction take away the force and
character of the original.
Is this effect due to the flattening out of the metaphors, or to
the smoothing away of the signs of spontaneous and abrupt
emotion shown in confused and elliptical speech? Is it due to
the regulation of realistic, although poetically rendered Elizabethan
language, by modes of expression and grammatical usage quite
foreign to it, and belonging properly to the Restoration ?
PART V.
SHAKESPEARE'S MODELING OF
HIS MATERIAL
Whence
Shakespeare drew the main elements of his plot for
'
Macbeth ' is plain enough beyond any reasonable doubt upon
comparison of the extracts quoted in the following pages (see Part
VII.,
'
Shakespeare's Literary Material,'), with the corresponding
portions of the play as suggested by the titles there given to these
extracts.
But, in niaking the suggested comparisons and tracing the closer
and the less close resemblances between the poet and the older
writers whose books he made use of, it is important to inquire how
he remodeled the borrowed facts and traits, how he blent in with
them various stray suggestions not belonging to them at all, and
how he harmonized them to fit in with other elements of the story
that are apparently entirely of his own devising. The divergences
must be noticed even more than the similarities. It is far more
important and instructive to catch in this way some glimpses of
genius in its workshop, than it is to notice where it is directly
dependent upon the borrowed material.
How Shakespeare borrowed, then, more than where he bor-
rowed, is the question to consider here. What effects he had in
mind may be revealed to the student in some degree if he seek to
discern how the poet put his raw, inert material into lifelike
dramatic shape.
The first extract given, illustrating the weather's contrariness at
the opening of the play, immediately precedes, in the old Chroni-
cle of Holinshed, the chapter telling the story of King Duncan
and his Cousin Macbeth. In midwinter there was earthquake
and flood
;
in midsummer there were stoijms and \ frosts,
the
best of times became the worst of times.
47
48
SHAKESPEARE STUDIES:
MACBETH .
The violent contrasts and contradictions thus suggested ard
summed up so well in the striking nature phrase uttered
by the
witches in chorus at the beginning of the play, that it may be sus-
pected when Shakespeare was brooding over the making of this
story into a play, that his eye caught at this neighboring passage,
and drew out the pith of it for his purpose, in this short phrase,
*
Fair is foul and foul is fair,'
and made it pitch the key for the

tragedy.
Notice how it accords with the witch-element of the play.
Does it agree with the popular idea of the relations of witches
with bad weather? (See the allusions to witches and weather in
the extracts from Scot given in the following pages, Second
Section), and show wherein the allusions to outdoor phenomena
throughout the play are made to wear a weird aspect, suiting this
opening phrase.
The same phrase recurs, like a Wagner
leit-motif, on Macbeth's
first appearance. What new value and deeper meaning does it
acquire by its dramatic application to the tragic person and fate
of the hero?
If it be accepted that this phrase was suggested by the abnor-
mal nature passage in Holinshed (here, we believe first pointed
out), it may be taken as a good specimen of a true poet's bor-
rowing. What he takes he does no wrong to, for he makes it
richer than it was before. The leaden commonplace on the
weather turns to gold under his touch, and passes current the
world over thenceforth. It is none the less applicable to new
uses, afterward moreover, but rather the more so in that it has
been appropriated and precisely adapted to fit in with his special
artistic requirements for the time being.
In the accounts of 'Macdonwald's Rebellion,' and
*
The Nor
weyan Invasion,' what is left out, what taken?
Just
what i
desirable to further his plot he selects, and the rest he drops.
Bring this out fully. Show, in particular, if he weaves in, here
and there, as minor colors in his pattern, incidents that are more
important in the history. For example, notice how he intro-
ii
I
MODELING OF MATERIAL
49
duces
the money paid out at St. Colme's Inch, the stratagem of the
banquet
given the enemy, and the berry juice which acted as a
drug.
Does he
make Banquo allude to this when he lets fall his
mention of the 'insane root,' as if it were a familiar thing both
to
Macbeth and
himself? Or is this reference blind?
Long ago,
Guthrie, in writing on English tragedy, said that
the
portrait of Macbeth's wife was copied from Buchanan, who
svrote in Latin, and 'whose spirit as well as words is translated
into the play by Shakespeare.' Dr. Farmer, in his 'F^ssayon
the Learning of Shakespeare'
(1767),
combated this as regards
Lady
Macbeth. He said that he 'could see no more spirit in the
Scotch than in the English chronicler,' and that he could 'demon-
strate' Shakespeare had not the story from Buchanan, but from
Holinshed
following Bellenden's translation of Boece. His
demonstration
consisted in showing how wide Buchanan's forms
of expressions were from Shakespeare's, and how precisely Hol-
inshed's were employed by Shakespeare, especially in the Third
Witch's prophecy
'thatshalt be king hereafter.' He proved

his point as against Buchanan and in favor of Holinshed. In
this witch scene, in particular, also, it was obvious that Holinshed
and not Bellenden was used, as a comparison of the two corre-
sponding passages, as given in this volume (Second Section, Part
VII.), will confirm. Ever since then, the editors of Shakespeare,
in general, have bettered his instruction, and not only accepted
Holinshed, but Holinshed alone, as Shakespeare's source.
As regards Macbeth's wife, however, there is in Bellenden a
passage omitted in Holinshed, yet echoed in Shakespeare. This
passage describes Lady Macbeth as impatient of long tarry, as
all women are, and as goading her husband on to achieve for him-
self the third prophecy's fulfillment, by calling him coward, feeble,
unambitious, and not man enough to dare the risk of such for-
tune as was assured him.
Strange to say. Dr. Farmer quoted the two references to Mac-
beth's wife in Holinshed and in his predecessor Bellenden,
.noticed that Holinshed had much abridged Bellenden, yet failed
50
to point out that Shakespeare had made here not indirect use
through Holinshed of Bellenden, but direct use. The argument
Dr. Farmer was carrying on in his essay, however, was directed
against Shakespeare's use of the Latin history. Bellenden's
somewhat Scotchified English is still English. It is strange that
others, accepting Dr. Farmer's conclusions, have not noticed the
interesting revelation he made no point of, yet incidentally
brought out, that the one main character in this drama, who owes
least to these old chroniclers and who is so largely Shakespeare's
own peculiar creation, finds here in Bellenden the strongest basis
she has outside of her creator's imagination.
Compare the two passages in question, as given further on,
inquiring what Shakespeare owes to them. Observe how he has
built out of Bellenden, and away beyond him, in making his Lady
Macbeth especially feminine, in giving her a zealous and practi-
cally
useful part in the inception of the tragedy, while guarding
against letting it appear that it owed to her either its initiation or
its later and bitterer fruits. Notice how the diplomacy which
Bellenden implies was due to his wife, in winning his friends to
support him at Inverness, is made use of and yet departed from,
also, in painting Lady Macbeth.
How much, on the other hand, has the poet built upon in tl
Holinshed reference to her ? Does he paint her as
'
verie am
tious, burning in unquenchable desire to beare the name of
queene
'
? Does he weave in the hint as to her ardor, but turn it
to another purpose ? By blending with that ardor the influential
and practical quality suggested by Bellenden, an active-souled,
queenly woman is constructed, whose fate it shall be to see with
opened eyes how her largely unselfish ambition for her husband
can work out, through his success, his ruin and her own desperate
remorse. Or if your view of Lady Macbeth is different, combat
these suggestions, with reference to Holinshed.
What hght do the references to Banquo in the two chroniclers
throw upon Shakespeare's Banquo? Does he depart most inter-
estingly from both of them by clearing Banquo far more than they
5
I
do of complicity with Macbeth ? Does he leave the point open
for dramatic effect only, because Banquo must not prevent the
murder, while really intimating his guilt later on, and following the
( hroniclers therefore, except only where as a dramatist he must
keep his plot intact?
How far does Shakespeare's artfully constructed plot follow the
actual story of Macbeth ? Observe where the incidents of another
story work in conveniently.
Just
where the Chronicle has nothing
to say of Macbeth's slaying of Duncan, except that he did it, and
[Shakespeare, in making a play out of it, desires to show how he
jdid it, and what the immediate effects of it were, the Macbeth
I
account is discarded, and the account in Holinshed of how
[another man killed another king is found useful to take from and
depart from, manipulating all afresh. How much has he taken
and left from the story of King Duffe's murder by Donwald? See
the extracts given here entitled 'How it Led to Murder,' 'The
Undivulged Pretense of Treasonous Mahce,' and
'
Abnormal
Nature.' Notice especially the skill with which Donwald's killing
of the chamberlains is borrowed for Macbeth's next morning.
In the part about the open postern gate do you notice a pos-
sible suggestion to Shakespeare's imagination to create the porter
scene of H. iii. ? Is the suggestion important as verifying the
porter scene to be Shakespeare's ?
The suspicion of the lords, checked by their caution, appears
with special reason for it in Banquo; and in what others? And
show how in Macduff's attitude toward Macbeth after the murder
Shakespeare has introduced action suggested by Holinshed's de-
scription of how some, having their own opinion and waiting
'
till
time and place should better serve,' hereupon got them 'awaie
eyerie man to his home.'
What might be called the University tradition in Shakespeare
editing of suspecting the
'
low ' parts in the Plays to be un-
Shakespearian, was begun by Pope, who took out of the text the
groundling and clownish scenes, and printed them in smaller type
at the foot of the page. Hanmer followed him, and even the
52
,
judicious Capell made it a habit to note these parts as not received
by Pope, whose judgment apparently had no other basis than his
personal taste in an age divergent from the Elizabethan. The
Cambridge editors, the direct heirs of Capell and the University
dynasty, as it were, did not follow this manner of printing, but
they have thrown the weight of their authority against the porter
scene which Pope relegated to the foot of his page, and also
against the Hecate scene, and the
'
selfe and violent hands ' of
Lady Macbeth's end. Fleay has followed headlong and cast
doubt also (see his
'
Shakespeare Manual,' chapter on
'
Macbeth')
on the scene between Ross and the Old Man, 11. iv. Compare
this scene with the extract from Holinshed given under the title
'
Abnormal Nature,' and notice whether the comparison argues for
this scene being peculiarly Shakespearian or not. The resem-
blances are manifest ; but others besides Shakespeare borrow.
See how he has made it into realistic dialogue, and connecting it
with superstitious rumors of the people concerning the family
affairs of their rulers, has put it in the form of folk talk, as it were
in the mouths of this old grandfather and the two suspicious lords
Macduff and Ross, who are gossiping with him.
. Dr. Furness first pointed out the link of resemblance betweei
King Kenneth's remorse and Macbeth's, in the supernatural voici
that cried to Kenneth, striking him with awe and sleeplessness
The idea given in the Holinshed extract (see Part VH., ther
entitled 'Macbeth's Remorse') is however in Shakespeare sui
charged both with poetry and with dramatic vividness.
How is it that the droning, almost sermonizing effect of thi
passage in the Chronicle is transformed in the Drama into a live!;
stroke of dramatic impressionism, peculiarly personal to Macbeth
Compare the poetic rendering of this passage with the variou
Elizabethan verses on Sleep, quoted in Part VHI. of this volume.
Has Shakespeare made any use of the witness of the Chronicle
in the extract here entitled
'
Macbeth on the Throne ' ?
A modern writer might fasten upon Macbeth's unusual consider-
ation toward women (shown in his laws, given in Holinshed, per-
53
milting the eldest daughter to inherit land, and the wife, though
childless, to have her third) as clews to the character of Macbeth's
wife and the respect in which he held her. Is it fair to argue as
much for Shakespeare? Has Shakespeare followed any hint
derived from the laws in making Macbeth childless ? Or is this
a natural contrast with Banquo's unending issue? Notice that
Fleance in the extract here entitled,
'
Banquo's Issue,' is given
some
'
inkling ' of his danger by friends at Court, after his father's
apparently accidental death. How does Shakespeare manage this
in the drama? Show how all that the wonderful banquet scene
rests upon, so far as the Chronicle is concerned, is this
'
inkling
'
Fleance has from
'
friends which he had in the Court.' So also
those haunting murderer scenes grow out of the slight references
in Holinshed to the
'
darke night ' and Macbeth's
'
handling of the
matter,' so that it might appear to be
'
chance medlie.'
Is the final appearance of the witches in the drama authorized
by the Chronicle ? How much that is new and significant has
Shakespeare interwoven? The prophecies as to Macduff and
Birnam Wood are not only made the most of; another prophecy
is so blended with these that the second thread of the plot, taking
its start from Macduff, is thus made to appear as if it were a strand
of the first thread which originally led Macbeth into conflict with
Banquo. The disjointedness that there is in the story exists really
in the plot of the play, too, in so far as retribution does not come
to Macbeth through Fleance or any of Banquo's issue, but through
Macduff.
Yet Shakespeare has in two ways done much to bridge and hide
this break. First, he has introduced in the second series of
prophecies an original prophecy that links in with the early part
of the play and with the end of it, yet to come. Second, he has
made the external plot, and the witch scenes in particular, signifi-
cant of the subjective plot which takes place from inception to
retribution within Macbeth's own nature and development.
Show how he has added to and shaped over the materials sup-
plied in the extracts entitled, 'Macbeth turns on Macduff,' 'The
54
Witches Again,'
'
Macduff's Flight,'
'
Birnam Wood,' etc., so that
all tends toward unifying as well as carrying on the tragedy, mak-
ing Macduff and Malcolm the instruments, as it were, of
'
Banquo's
issue,' that is, of the royal Scotch- English line of kings fore-
shadowed both in the downfall of Macbeth through Malcolm's
victory, and in the voice of the crowned child, and in the show of
kings.
Is this latter part of the second set of prophecies
the previ-
sion of the English twofold balls and treble scepters
in effect
here merely a compliment to the then reigning king,
James
VI.
of Scotland, I. of England, as has been supposed? Or does it
suit Shakespeare's dramatic scheme too well not to have been
designed ?
It has been considered that the scene narrating the English
king's cures for the evil, is an interpolation having no place in the
original draft of the plot. But it has an agreement with the so-
lution of the plot, which is the English cure of Scotland's evil, b
enabling Malcolm and Macduff to rid the land of Macbeth. An
it is in accord, too, with the talk of Macbeth with the Physicia
over the possibility of finding and purging the disease of Scol
land. Is it a coincidence that an interpolation should fit in s
nicely with the scheme of a play? What light upon the ques
tion is thrown by the evidence of the extract from Holinshed, o
the
'
King's Cures,' cited here, so far as we know, for the first time
Is the passage in Holinshed (see
*
Macduff and Malcolm,' pai
VII.), relating the conversation between Malcolm and Macduf
the least changed by Shakespeare of any of the material used b
him? Is it, therefore, the least interesting?
Parallel the brief minor passages in Shakespeare and in Holir
shed, ' Seyton,' 'The Sivvards,' 'The First Earls,' etc., as given her
in Part VII. They are merely noteworthy as showing what Shake
speare saw in them that was convenient for his lesser purposes.
Finally, turning once more to the witch material (see Part VI]
'The Witches Again,' 'The Massacre at Fife'), observe how the
poet has amplified on the idea to be found in the crude kernel in
MODELLNG OF MATERIAL
55
Holinshed's account of the
'
vaine hope
'
raised in Macbeth, by the
second set of prophecies. The mainspring of the action during
the latter part of the drama is made to take its rise from this
'vaine
hope
'
suppUed by the Chronicle. This
*
vaine hope,' more-
over, says Holinshed, ' caused him to doo manie outragious thinges,'
among them the slaughter of Macduff's family. From this out-
rageous thing Shakespeare nurses and prepares the vengeance that
shall prove how delusive was the vain hope, and yet how by means
of it Fate conquered the man who dared challenge her.
One witch passage in Holinshed given in our extracts and not
yet discussed (see 'Witches' Mischief) is generally held to be
used by Shakespeare in I. iii. In the Chronicle it has nothing to
do with Macbeth ; neither has it in the drama. This story of
King Dufte's wasting away and sleeplessness on account of the
witches' spells over a waxen image is used so indirectly by Shake-
speare that the indirection is interesting. The waxen image is as
disregarded as the one in Horace. (See Part VHL,
'
Literary
Illustrations.') The likeness between the two passages begins and
ends with the statement of the First Witch that the sailor over
whom she had cast her spell was to
'
dwindle peak and pine ' as
Duffe did, and be unvisited by sleep. Yet out of this comes the
local color wanted for the presentation of the witches by them-
selves in a characteristic scene.
The question how far Shakespeare drew from the darker and
deeper potencies of witchcraft, typically presented not in such
vulgar malice as this of the First Witch, but in the queenlier might
of Ovid's Medea and of her goddess, Hecate, will depend upon
the view taken of the superior profundity promised from the first
by the Third Witch, and the pertinence to the plot of both the
determination of Macbeth
'
to know by the worst means the worst,'
and the determination of Hecate to lure him on to bear
'
his hopes
'bove wisdom, grace, and fear.' The indirect use is harder to
show, but is not less convincing, if the course of the play as a
whole is seen to cohere with it. The supernatural element is
enriched by various references in the play bearing on sorcery in
56
general. What indications of Shakespeare's familiarity with the
popular witch-lore of Scot, and with the classic witch-lore
of
Ovid, appear on a comparison of the allusions in the play with
the
extracts given in Part VI. ? Whatever appears in the more modem
guise had its antecedents, of course, in pagan traditions, and this
fact adds to the interest of the query whether the vulgar witch-lore
of the time is deepened by Shakespeare in touches suggestive of
classic witch-lore and betraying his consciousness of the antiquity
of this part of his literary material.
The more external mummery of witchcraft, such as appears in
the main witch scenes of ' Macbeth,' is not unusual anywhere. It
is only put more poetically. The same sort of trickery comes to
the fore in such a play as Middleton's
'
Witch,' but in the vastly
more unclean forms which Shakespeare markedly avoids. The
element in Shakespeare's witch scenes which distinguishes them
is subtle and most unusual. It consists in the subjective influenc
of his witches. The psychological interplay between Macbeth an|
his weird sisters, and their evocation of his character and destii
through their revelation of his secret desires, is neither Elizabetha
nor classic so much as it is modern, or tending toward the moder
It is of supreme interest, therefore, to notice that Holinshed, i\
his obtuse fashion, supplies one little witch incident possessir
this unusual subjective quality.
This extract, in Part VII., entitled
'
Another Witch Prophecy^
is cited here, we believe, for the first time. Its psychologies
value is undeveloped, of course. Holinshed and the genera
mind of his day did not discern its quality. The question is
Did Shakespeare's mind discern it and creatively develop what
may be called the subjective side of his witchcraft in
'
Macbeth
'
out of the thoughts aroused in him by this obscure hint?
Do you think that such a prophecy as this,
relating how the

mind of the king's friend in whom he reposed an absolute trust
was eaten into by the witch's words so that he was impelled to slay
the king,
likely to have been peculiarly fascinating and fruitful

to the mind that was to create
'
Macbeth ' ?
PART VI. MOOT POINTS FOR DISCUSSION
I. How far is the action of the play shaped by the witches ?
'The first thought of acceding to the throne is suggested, and
success in the attempt is promised to Macbeth by the witches ; he
is, therefore, represented as a man whose natural temper would
have deterred him from such a design if he had not been imme-
diately tempted and strongly impelled to it.' (Whateley's
'
Re-
marks on Some Characters of Shakespeare,'
1785,
quoted in the
Furness Variorum.)
'
The power of the weird sisters is nowhere exhibited as abso-
lute, but always as relative. It is shown to depend upon what in
a man's soul has affinities for that power. Where these affinities
do not exist their power is naught.' (Corson,
'
Introduction to
Shakespeare,'
1890.)
Can these two opposite views be reconciled as the natural results
of an evolution of thought which at first regarded temptation as
from an external or anthropomorphic devil, and later as the prompt-
ing of a bad conscience ? Which is the point of view Shakespeare
is likelier to have had ? Is it a mistake to suppose his mind con-
fined to the level of most of his contemporaries ?
Opposite Propositions for Debate
1. Banquo's reception of the witches contrasts with Macbeth's,
and illustrates Corson's opinion.
2. Banquo stands in the same external relation to the witches'
prophecies as Macbeth, which proves that their joint temptation
causes the action.
57
58
II. Do the witches ever really prophesy ? or is the plot only
illustrated by their revelations ?
If their revelations are merely reflections of what is in Macbeth's
mind, how can the apparition of the armed head (supposed to be
JVIacbeth's own head cut off), of the bloody child (the image of
Macduff's birth), of the crowned child with the tree in its hand
(prophetic of the 'moving wood'), be explained?
But, in order to have sought, must not Macbeth first have needed
the assurances the apparitions gave ? Must he not have been led
to apprehend defeat, by his bitterness in being childless, and by
his dread of Macduff and of the Prince of Cumberland, before he
could be drawn on to
'
spurn fate, scorn death, and bear his hopes
'bove wisdom, grace, and fear?' (III. v.
29.)
The apparitions are symbols of Macbeth's own potentiality ; for
it is, as it were, his own dissevered head (that is, his own fear of
Macduff making him anticipate his doom) that bids him beware
Macduff. Yet, after all, it is not Macduff of whom he must really
beware, but himself; the bloody child declares that none of woman
born shall harm him, still it was not Macduff's untimely birth that
makes him dangerous to Macbeth, but the wrongs he himself will
have done the thane of Fife ; the crowned child with the tree
warns him of his peril when Birnam Wood shall come to Dun-
sinane, still it is not Banquo's issue nor the
*
moving wood
'
but
the murdered Duncan's son who brings Macbeth to his confusion.
All these foreshadowings are then really spectral shows of the
actual facts and/ causes in Macbeth's character and deeds.
1. Macbeth's mind was not open enough to imderstand these
apparitions ; therefore he could not have prefigured them, and
this proves that the witches are meant to be real, and that they
not only illustrate but create the plot.
2. The character of a man is his history, says Goethe.
From
such a conception of destiny the plot and structure of Shake-
speare's
*
Macbeth ' arise.
MOOT POINTS
59
III. Was Banquo guilty?
'
Banquo was as deep in the murder of the king, as some of the
Scottish writers inform us (see "Shakespeare's Literary Material" in
this volume, Part VII.) as Macbeth. But Shakespeare, with great
art and address, deviates from the history. By these means his char-
acters have the greater variety, and he at the same time pays a
compliment to King
James, who was lineally descended from Ban-
quo.' (Upton, 'Critical Remarks on Shakespeare,'
1746.)
*
Banquo appears to have been specially designed as a counter
agency to the agency of the weird sisters . . . and as a support or
encouragement to Macbeth's free agency if he chose to assert it.'
(Corson, 'Introduction to Shakespeare,'
1890.)
Does Banquo show his complicity with Macbeth by submission
to the oracle, or his innocence by his indifference to its promise ?
Why does Banquo give up his sword when he has
'
cursed thoughts,'
and cannot sleep, and has cause to fear
as he afterward says he
does fear
that Macbeth will play

'
most foully
'
? Was this part
of what Macbeth calls that
'
wisdom that doth guide his valor to
act in safety'? (III. i.
52.)
Why does Macduff refuse to go to
Scone to see Macbeth crowned? Is he franker than Banquo?
That Banquo was not guilty of intentional complicity with Mac-
beth in helping him to the throne is sufficiently shown by Mac-
beth's fear of him (III. i.
46-72)
; but it must be remembered that
the prophecy as to Banquo's issue would alone be enough to make
Macbeth suspicious of him and account him an obstacle, even if
he did not think him good ; and the caution and silence passively
helping Macbeth's accession (though Banquo may have been
merely biding the best time to unmask Duncan's murderer) show
him to be not so
'
unco' guid ' as
'
unco' canny.'
I .
*
Banquo's sympathy with, nay, complicity in, the murder of
Duncan is made perfectly clear. . . . The poet transforms Ban-
quo's crime into one which consists in remaining silent, in refus-
V,
6o
ing to act,' (Flathe, 'Shakespeare in seiner Wirklichkeit,'
Furness's Variorum. See also
*
Banquo,' by Colin S. Buell, Poet-
lore, Vol. XI. No I.)
2.
'
Banquo, as Macbeth admits, is noble, wise, and brave. . . .
The greater and happier fortune of Banquo did not consist alone
or chiefly in the sovereignty that was to come to his descendants.
. . . Moreover, to make Banquo bad would destroy the artistic
balance of the drama. The royal pair of criminals,
"
magnificent
in sin," need no iniquitous rivals near the infernal throne. Banquo
is wanted on the other side.' (* Was Banquo Bad ?
'
by W.
J.
Rolfe,
Poet-lore, Vol. XI. No.
3.)
IV. Why does Lady Macbeth faint ?
'In II. iii. 115-122 ... on Lady Macbeth's seeming to faint,
while Banquo and Macduff are solicitous about her, Macbeth, by
his unconcern, betrays a consciousness that the fainting is feigned.'
(Whateley, 'Remarks on Some Characters of Shakespeare,'
1785.)
'
Most editors suppose this fainting fit to be a pretence, but I am
convinced that Shakespeare meant it to be real. Various causes
have cooperated to beget in Lady Macbeth a revulsion of feeling,
which, from henceforth constantly increasing, drives her at last to
self-destruction.' (Bodenstedt,
'
Macbeth,'
1867.)
'Macbeth was alone, facing the grooms still heavy with their
drugged sleep, and knowing that in another moment they would
be aroused and telling their tale : the sense of crisis proves too
much for him, and under an ungovernable impulse, he stabs them.
He thus wrecks the whole scheme. How perfectly Lady Mac-
beth's plan would have served, if it had been left to itself, is shown
by Lennox's account of . . . the grooms. . . . Nothing, it is true,
can be finer than the way in which Macbeth seeks to cover his
mistake. . . . But ... his efforts are in vain, and at the ei:d of
his speech we feel that there has arisen in the company . . . the
indescribable effect known as a
'
sensation
'
; and we listen for
some one to speak some word that shall be irrevocable. The
crisis is acute, but Lady Macbeth comes to the rescue aiid faints!
MOOT POINTS
61
. . . there is at once a diversion. (Moulton,
'
Shakespeare as a
Dramatic Artist,' 1888.)
'
The dramatist had his reasons for causing Macbeth's hypocriti-
cally poetic description of the scene of the murder to be thus
publicly delivered in the presence of her whose hands have had
so large a share in giving it that particular aspect. It lends double
force to this most characteristic trait of Macbeth's deportment,
that he should not be moved, even by his lady's presence, from
delivering his affectedly indignant description of that bloody spec-
tacle, in terms which must so vividly recall to her mind's eye the
sickening objects which his own moral cowardice had compelled
her to gaze upon. His words draw from Lady Macbeth the in-
stant exclamation,
"
Help me hence, ho !
"
. . , It is remarkable
that, upon her exclamation of distress, Macduff, and shortly after
Banquo, cries out,
"
Look to the lady
"
;
but that we find not the
smallest sign of attention paid to her situation by Macbeth him-
self, who, arguing from his own character to hers, might regard it
merely as a dexterous feigning on her part.' (Fletcher, 'Studies
of Shakespeare,'
1847.)
Lady Macbeth's energy of mind and will give her her prompt
remorse and piteous reaction of feeling. They give her also her
early ascendency over her husband
;
and his consciousness of this
and emulation of her force of character bring about their reversal
of position, of which her swoon and his daring, if not foolhardy
act in this scene are signs. Note his repetitions of her earlier
counsels,
her
'
When you durst do it, then you were a man,' etc.,
I. vii.
47,
and his
'
Now, if you have a station in the file. Not in
the worst rank of manhood,' etc. (III. i. loi), her
'
Art thou afeard
To be the same in thine own act ... as thou art in desire
?
' etc.
(I. vii.
39-45),
and his from hence
'
The very firsthngs of my heart
shall be The firstlings of my hand
'
(IV. i.
145-150) ;
and find simi-
lar echoes. That Macbeth's hallucinations are waking, and his
wife's somnambulistic, indicates her greater self-control. Her com-
mand of her consciousness weakens only when she is physically
unhinged,
'
caught napping,' as it were.
62
SHAKESPEARE STUDIES:
MACBETH
Opi'osite Propositions for Debate
I
*
Macbeth's remorse constitutes the element of horror in the
play. Almost as much pity is felt for the murderer as for his
victim. The true title of the tragedy might be crime, remorse,
and expiation. Lady Macbeth alone appears to stand outside the
pale of morality. ... All the great crimes in Shakespeare are
inspired by wicked women; men may execute, but cannot con-
ceive them. The creature of sentiment is more depraved than the
man of crime. .... In committing the murder Macbeth suc-
cumbed to a strength of depravity superior to his own. This
strength of depravity is the ardent imagination of his wife. . . .
[His] is the weakness of a strong man opposed to the seductions
of a perverted woman.' (Lamartine, 'Shakespeare et son
CEuvre,'
1865,
quoted by Furness.)
'
She is nothing of the kind. She is of a proud, ardent nature,
a brave, consistent, loving woman, that derives her courageous
consistency from the depths of her affection, absorbed in her hus-
band's life and pursuits; and after the first steps in crime sinks
under the burden of guilt heaped upon her soul.' (F. A. Leo,
'Macbeth,'
187
1,
quoted by Furness.)
'
The original choice for evil has for both been made by Mac-
beth. . . . The exact key to her character is given by regarding
her as the antithesis of her husband, and an embodiment of the
inner life and culture so markedly wanting in him. She has
had the feminine lot of being shut out from active life, and her
genius and energy have been turned inwards; her soul
like her
"little hand
"
is not hardened for the working-day world, but is

quick, delicate, sensitive.' (Moulton.)
V. How did Lady Macbeth look?
'
Her whole appearance ought to be royal, as one for whose
powerful features and majestic bearing the diadem is the befit-
ting adornment. Her countenance ought to display noble and
energetic outlines, from whose every feature mean desires are
MOOT POINTS
63
banished; it should presage demoniac forces, with never a trace
of moral ugliness nor aught repellent. The glittering eye betrays
the restless, busy ardor of the disposition, while the finely chis-
elled lips and the nostrils must eloquently express scorn of moral
opposition and a determined purpose in crime. Her queenly
bearing, as well as the nobility of all her movements, proclaims
her title to the highest earthly greatness and power. Lady Mac-
beth' s looks ought to enchain, and yet, withal, chill us, for such
features can awaken no human sympathy, and can only disclose
the dominion of monstrous powers.' (Rotscher, 'Shakespeare in
seiner Character-bilden, ' as quoted by Furness.)
*
We figure Lady Macbeth to have been a tawny or brown
blonde Rachel, with more beauty, with gray and cruel eyes, but
with the same slight, dry configuration and constitution, instinct
with determined nerve-power. . . . In Maclise's great painting
of the banquet scene she is represented as a woman of large and
coarse development: a Scandinavian Amazon, the muscles of-
whose brawny arms could only have been developed to their great
size by hard and frequent use; a woman of whose fists her hus-
band might well be afraid. . . . Was Lady Macbeth such a
being? Did the fierce fire of her soul animate the epicene bulk
of a virago? Never! Lady Macbeth was a lady, beautiful and
delicate, whose one vivid passion proves that her organization
was instinct with nerve-force, unoppressed by weight of flesh.
Probably she was small; for it is the smaller sort of women whose
emotional fire is the most fierce.' ('The Mad Folk of Shake-
speare,' T. C. Bucknill,
1867.)
'
Shakespeare gives us no hint as to her personal charms, except
when he makes her describe her hand as "little." We may be
sure that there were few "more thoroughbred or fairer fingers
"
in
the land of Scotland than those of its queen, whose bearing in
public towards Duncan, Banquo, and the nobles is marked by
elegance and majesty; and, in private, by affectionate anxiety
for her sanguinary lord.' (Maginn,
'
Shakespeare Papers,' i860.)
In her 'are associated the subjugating power of intellect and
64
the charms and graces of personal beauty. You will probably
not agree with me as to the character of that beauty . . . it is of
that character which I believe is generally allowed to be most
captivating tQ the other sex, fair, feminine, nay, perhaps, even
fragile. . . . Vaulting ambition and intrepid daring rekindle
in a moment all the splendours of her dark blue eyes. . . . Her
feminine nature, her delicate structure, . . . are soon over-
whelmed by the enormous pressure of her crimes. . . . Her
frailer frame and keener feelings have now sunk under the strug-
gle, his robust and less sensitive constitution has not only
resisted it, but bears him on to deeper wickedness, and to
experience the fatal fecundity of crime.' (Sarah Siddons,
'Remarks on the Character of Lady Macbeth,' in Campbell's
'
Life of Mrs. Siddons.' See also quotation from Rolfe's 'Mac-
beth
'
Notes,
p.
255,
giving Weiss' s confirmation of this opinion.)
*
She is ... a sort of sister of Milton's Lucifer, and, like him,
we surely imagine her externally majestic and beautiful. Mrs.
Siddons's idea of her having been a delicate and blonde beauty
seems to me to be a pure caprice. The public would have ill
exchanged such a representative of Lady Macbeth for the dark
locks and the eagle eyes of Mrs. Siddons.' (Campbell.)
'
No one doubts that he has shown us in the spirit of Lady
Macbeth that masculine firmness of will which he has made want-
ing in her husband. The strictest analogy, then, would lead him
to complete the harmonizing contrast of the two characters by
enshrining this "undaunted mettle
"
of hers in a frame as exqui-
sitely feminine as her husband's is magnificently manly. This
was requisite, also, in order to make her taunts of Macbeth's
irresolution operate with the fullest intensity. Such sentiments
from the lips of what is called a masculine looking or speaking
woman have little moral energy compared with what they derive
from the ardent utterance of a delicately feminine voice and
MOOT POINTS
65
'ire. Mrs. Siddons, then, we believe, judged more correctly
... this matter than the public' (Fletcher.)
VI. Did Shakespeare write the Porter Scene ?
\^This low soliloquy of the porter, and his few speeches after-
wards, I take to have been written for the mob by some other
hand, perhaps with Shakespeare's consent; and that, finding it
take, he with the remaining ink of a pen otherwise employed just
interpolated the words, "I'll devil-porter it no further: I had
thought to have let in some of all professions, that go the prim-
rose way to the everlasting bonfire." Of the rest not one syllable
has the ever-present being of Shakespeare.' (YColeridg^ 'Notes
and Lectures,'
1849.)
4
'
Nevertheless, we cannot help thinking ... it to have been
not only his composition, but . . . naturally considered. . . .
It serves to lengthen dramatic time, and ... its repulsively
coarse humor serves powerfully to contrast, yet harmonise, with
the crime.' (M. and C. C. Clarke,
'
Shakespeare.')
'
Without this scene, Macbeth's dress cannot be shifted nor his
hands washed. To give a rational space for the discharge of
these actions was this scene thought of.' (Capell, 'Notes,'
P-^,
I779-)
(_A porter's speech is an integral part of the play; it is neces-
sary as a relief to the surrounding horror; it is necessary accord-
ing to the law of contrast elsewhere obeyed; the speech we have
is dramatically relevant ; its style and language are Shake-
spearian.'
^(J.
W. Hales, in 'New Shakspere Society Trans-
actions,'
1874.
)j
'
The knocking at the gate . . . reflected back upon the mur-
der a peculiar awfulness and a depth of solemnity . . . the re-
action has commenced; the human has made its reflux on the
fiendish; the pulses of life are beginning to beat again; and the
re-establishment of the goings on of the world in which we live
first makes us profoundly sensible of the awful parenthesis that
had suspended them.' (De Quincey, 'Essays,' 185
1.)
*
To us this comic scene, not of a high class of comedy at best,
seems strangely out of place amid the tragic horrors which sur-
round it, and is quite different in effect from the comic passages
which Shakespeare has introduced into other tragedies. ' (Claren-
don Press
'
Shakespeare.')
'
Nothing more admirably fitted-than this scene for the purpose
of supplying the transition from one point of effect to another
could be given; and any critical censure of the poet for what he
has done results from ignorance of his art. The true dramatist
will estimate it at its worth.'
(J.
A. Heraud, 'Shakespeare's
Inner Life,'
1865,
as quoted by Furness.)
VII. The Third Murderer
*
Macbeth was himself the third murderer; and this is apparent
because,
first, although the banquet was to commence at seven,

Macbeth did not go there till near midnight; second, his entrance
to the room and the appearance of the murderers are almost
simultaneous; third, so dear to his heart was the success of this
plot, that during the four or five hours before the banquet he
must have been taken up with the intended murder some way or
other. He could not have gone to the feast with the bare chance
of the plot miscarrying; fourth, if there had been a third mur-
derer sent to superintend the other two, he must have been Mac-
beth's chief confidant, and as such in all probability would have
been the first to announce the result; fifth, the
"
twenty mortal
murthers" was a needless and devilish kind of mutilation, not like
the work of hirelings; sixth, the third murderer repeated the
precise instructions given to the other two, showed unusual inti-
macy with the exact locality, the habits of the visitors, etc., and
seems to have struck down the light, probably to escape recogni-
tion; seventh, there was a levity in Macbeth's manner with the
murderer at the banquet which is quite explicable if he per-
sonally knew that Banquo was dead; eighth, when the ghost rises,
MOOT POINTS
67
Macbeth asks those about him "which of them had done it," evi-
dently to take suspicion off himself, and he says, in effect, to the
ghost, "In yon black struggle you could never know me.''
'
(Mr,
Allan Park Paton, in 'Notes and Queries,' September 11 and
November
13, 1869.)
'The attendant was the third murderer. The stage directions
are minute concerning one character not mentioned in the
Dramatis FersoncB ; and where such directions are given by
Shakespeare, I believe they are for a purpose, because he is gen-
erally careless in such matters and leaves them for the actors to
carry out. Macbeth utters what little he has to say to this attend-
\ ant in tone of marked contempt
suggestive of his being some

wretched creature entirely in his power, not an ordinary servant,
but a tool. Such a servant in moral bondage to his master would
be employed to watch without the palace gate for the two mur-
derers, whose services he had, by Macbeth' s orders, secured. He
need not have known the precise object of their interview with
Macbeth; and I think it probable, from the action of the scene,
that he was not told of it until after Macbeth's conversation (III.
i.) with the two murderers, at the conclusion of which, I infer,
he was commanded to watch them. The stage direction (III.
i.) is. Exeunt all but Macbeth and an attendant; next is, Re-enter
attendant with two murderers. Attendant then retires; but
after Macbeth leaves them, as they go out by one door, he might
follow by the other the attendant waiting there and instruct him.
The exact familiarity which the third murderer shows suggests the
attendant, whose familiar knowledge may have been a reason for
connecting him with the deed, if only by an afterthought, lest it
fail without it. In the banquet scene, if the attendant stood by
the first murderer after bringing him in, the interview would
seem open, and such a conversation could be better carried on
under the eye of the whole company. Otherwise, the effect
would be unmanageable and absurd, instead of a thrilling
horror.' (Henry Irving in Nineteenth Century for April,
1877,
PP-
327-330-)
Queries for Discussion
Why is a third murderer introduced? Was Macbeth the third
murderer?
VIII. Is Hecate un-Shakespearian ?
'
If the fifth scene of Act III. had occurred in a drama
not
attributed to Shakespeare, no one would have discovered in it any
trace of Shakespeare's manner; IV. i. 125-132 cannot be Shake-
speare's.' (The Clarendon editors.)
'
The witches discourse with one another like women of the very
lowest class, to which witches were supposed to belong.
. . .
When they address Macbeth, their tone assumes the majestic
solemnity by which oracles have in all times contrived to inspire
mortals with reverential awe. We here see that the witches are
merely instruments ; they are governed by an invisible spirit, or
the ordering of such great and dreadful events would be above .
their sphere.' (Schlegel,
'
Lectures.') I
'
The wonderful pace at which the play was plainly written
a
feverish haste drives it on
will account for many weaknesses in

detail.' (Furnivall.)
Macbeth remarks long before the scene in which Hecate
appears that 'witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's offerings' (II. i.
52).
He again refers to Hecate's powers (III. ii.
41),
'ere to
black Hecate's summons The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy
hums Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done A deed
of dreadful note.' Do these references of Macbeth to Hecate
militate against the supposition that the part of Hecate's is not
Shakespeare's?
'The Hecate of HI. v. and IV. i. occurs nowhere else in Shake-
speare. Even in this play the
"
pale Hecate
"
whose
"
offerings
witchcraft celebrates," the black Hecate who summons the beetle
to ring" night's yawning peal," is the classical Hecate, the mistress
of the lower world, arbiter of departed souls, patroness of magic,
the threefold dreadful goddess : so she is in
"
Midsummer Night's
MOOT POINTS
69
Dream," in
"
Lear," in
"
Hamlet
"
: . . . in this play she is a com-
mon
witch, as in Middleton's play (not a spirit, as the Cambridge
editors
say)
;
the chief witch : who sails in the air indeed ; all
witches do that ; but a witch : rightly described in the stage direc-
tion of the
Folios), Enter Hecate and the other three witches.^
(Fleay, 'Shakespeare
Manual,'
1878.)
It should here be
observed that upon Hecate's first appearance
(HI. V.) the stage direction of the Folios reads, Enter the three
witches meeting Hecate, which furnishes quite as good an argument
against Hecate's being a witch as the other stage direction does
for
it, since it might mean three witches besides those already on
the stage. Steevens suggested the others might be brought in to
join the coming dance. The Cambridge editors changed to
Enter Hecate to the other three Witches. As there are frequently
palpable printers' errors in the stage directions of the Folios,
arguments based on them have to be taken with caution.
'This un-Shakespearian Hecate does not use Shakespearian
language : there is not a line in her part that is not in Middleton's
worst style : her metre is a jumble of tens and eights (iambic not
trochaic like Shakespeare's short lines), a sure sign of inferior
work'; and what is of the most importance, she is not of the least
use in the play in any way : the only effect she produces is, that
the three fate-goddesses, who in the introduction of the play
were already brought down to ordinary witches, are lowered still
further to witches of an inferior grade, with a mistress who
"
con-
trives their charms
"
and is jealous if any
"
trafficking
"
goes on in
which she does not bear her part.' (Fleay.)
The part of Hecate is absolutely necessary in the development
jjf the fatalistic side of the plot ; as the Fates were subject to
Zeus, so these witches were subject to Hecate, and were unable ta
fulfill the destiny of Macbeth without her aid. In the first scene
they simply show the ordinary witch power of second sight, but in
yo
IV. i., in order to lead Macbeth to his further confusion, they must
show him apparitions ; this they could not do without the aid of
magic and Hecate, the goddess who presided over magic and its
practicers
the witches. Furthermore, the growing power of

the evil influences over Macbeth is symbolized in Hecate's first
appearance (HI. iv.), when she expresses her determination to
have her finger in the destruction of this man who loves only
for his own ends.
IX. Does the language in Macbeth prove that many passages in
the play are not Shakespeare's ?
Messieurs Clark and Wright
'
are persuaded that there are parts
which Shakespeare did not write ' : namely, I. ii., of which
'
the slovenly metre is not like Shakespeare's work, even when he is
most careless,' nor
*
the bombastic phraseology of the Sergeant,'
like
'
Shakespeare's language even when he is most bombastic
'
;
II. i.
1-37,
and 'the feeble "tag," 'II. i. 61
;
II. iii. 1-23, 'the low
soliloquy of the Porter' ; III. v. ; IV. i.
39-47,
125-132
;
V. v.
47-
50,
viii.,
32-33 ;
the last forty lines of the play.
'
Shakespeare, who
has inspired his audience with pity for Lady Macbeth, and made
them feel that her guilt has been almost absolved by the terrible
retribution which followed, would not have disturbed this feeling
by calling her a "fiend-like queen"; nor would he have drawn
away the veil which, with his fine tact he had dropt over her
fate, by telling us that she had taken off her life by
"
self and
violent hands.'" (Clarendon Press Series,
1869.)
Singularly enough, this correction of
'
Macbeth
'
is in all main
points, from the clearing up of the
'
slovenly metre
'
and
*
bombas-
tic phraseology ' of the Sergeant, to the excision of the parts of
the close of the play which indicate Macbeth's resistance of suicide,
and Lady Macbeth's seizure of it, precisely the correction D'Ave-
nant's taste effected when he amended the play for action
'
at the
Duke's Theatre.' Is that play as printed in
1674
in these re-
spects more Shakespearian than the
'
Macbeth ' of the First Folio,
1623 ;
or does the fact that the taste of the Restoration and the
MOOT POINTS
71
criticism
of these
Victorian editors accord so perfectly upon these
passages,
conduce toward the conclusion that it is unwise to pro-
nounce
them
un-Shakespearian ? Are the suicide passages sucK
as
suit the
scheme of the play as a whole, and is the 'Roman
death' a favorite allusion in Shakespeare? Do other objections
occur to you?
The Clarendon Press editors,
'
following the suggestion originally
made by
Steevens as to the resemblances between
"
The Witch
"
and
"Macbeth,"'
conjecture J:hat to Middleton these 'un-Shake-
spearian
'
passages are due,
*
who to please the groundlings ex-
panded the parts assigned to the weird sisters and introduced
Hecate.' Fleay,
enlarging on the same thesis, wrote :
'
I now give my theory as to the composition of the play. It
was written by
Shakespeare during his third period ... its date
was probably 1606 ... at some time after this Middleton revised
and abridged it. I agree with the Cambridge editors in saying
not earlier than
161
3. There is a decisive argument that he did
so after he wrote the
"
Witch," namely, that he borrowed the songs
from the latter play and repeats himself a good deal. It is to me
very likely that he should repeat himself in
"
Macbeth," and
somewhat improve on his original conception, as he has done in
the corresponding passages ; and yet be unable to do a couple of
new songs, or to avoid the monotony of introducing Hecate in
both plays (Hecate being a witch in both, remember) [not proven,
remember]. I can quite understand a third rate man, who in all
his work shows reminiscences of others and repetitions of Shake-
speare, being unable to vary such conceptions as he formed on the
subject. I beheve that Middleton, having found the groundlings
more taken with the witches, and the cauldron, and the visions in
IV. i. than with the grander art displayed in the Fate goddesses
of I. iii. determined to amalgamate these, and to give us plenty of
them ... I believe also the extra fighting in the last scenes was
inserted for the same reason. But finding that the magic and the
singing and the fighting made the play too long ... he cut out
large portions of the psychological Shakespeare work, in which,
72
as far as quantity is concerned, this play is very deficient com-
pared with the three other masterpieces of world-poetry, and left
us the torso we now have . . . Middleton altered many scenes by
inserting rhyme tags.'
'Who could exhaust the praise of this sublime work? Since
"
The Furies
"
of ^schylus, nothing so grand and terrible has
ever been composed. The witches are not, it is true, divine
Eumenides, and are not intended to be so ; they are ignoble and
vulgar instruments of hell. A German poet, therefore, very ill
understood their meaning when he transformed them into mongrel
beings, a mixture of fates, furies, and enchantresses, and clothed
them with tragical dignity. Let no man lay hand on Shakespeare's
works to change anything essential in them ; he will be sure to
punish himself. . . . Shakespeare's picture of the witches is
truly magical : in the short scenes where they enter, he has
created for them a peculiar language, which, although composed
of the usual elements, still seems to be a collection of formulae of
incantation. The sound of the words, the accumulation of the
rhymes, and the rhythmus of the verse, form, as it were, the hollow
music of a dreary dance of witches. . . . The witches discourse
with one another like women of the very lowest class, for this was
the class to which witches were supposed to belong
;
when, how-
ever, they address Macbeth, their tone assumes more elevation
;
their predictions, which they either themselves pronounce or allow
their apparitions to deliver, have all the obscure brevity, the
majestic solemnity, by which oracles have in all times contrived
to inspire mortals with reverential awe.
*
We here see that the witches are merely instruments
;
they are
governed by an invisible spirit, or the ordering of such great and
terrible events would be above their sphere.' (Schlegel, '
Lectures
on Art and Dramatic Literature.')
*
It exhibits throughout the hasty execution of a grand and
clearly conceived design. But the haste is that of a master of his
art, who, with conscious command of its resources, and in the
frenzy of a grand inspiration, works out his composition to its
MOOT POINTS
73
minutest detail of essential form, leaving the work of surface finish
for the occupation of cooler leisure. ... I am inclined to regard
"
Macbeth
"
as, for the most part, a specimen of Shakespeare's
unelaborated, if not unfinished, writing, in the maturity and highest
vitality of his genius. It abounds in instances of extremest com-
pression and most daring ellipsis, while it exhibits in every scene
a union of supreme dramatic and poetic power, and in almost
every line an imperially irresponsible control of language. Hence,
I think, its lack of completeness of versification in certain passages,
and also some of the imperfection of the text, the thought in
which the compositors were not always able to follow and appre-
hend.' (Richard Grant White.)
1.
*
Macbeth,' in its present state, is an altered copy of the
original drama, and the alterations were made by Middleton.
(Fleay.)
2.
'
It would be very uncritical to pick out of Shakespeare's
works all that seems inferior to the rest, and to assign it to some-
body else. At his worst he is still Shakespeare
;
and though the
least
"
mannered
"
of all poets he has always a manner that cannot
be mistaken.' (Cambridge editors.)
3.
The similarities between 'The Witch ' and
'
Macbeth ' proves
no more than that Shakespeare in this case, as in other provable
cases (for examples see resemblances in the Plays to Holinshed,
Plutarch, Greene, Chaucer, etc.), made use of anything that suited
! his purpose, and the fact that the passages so similar in
'
Macbeth
'
I always show an improvement in diction and a purposefulness in
li relation to character or plot militates in favor of Shakespeare's
1
having borrowed from Middleton, rather than that Middleton
either improved Shakespeare or borrowed from him. (Compare
,
pvxssages as given in
'
Literary Illustrations,' in this volume, Part
i-ejlll., with
'
Macbeth.')
4.
To say that Shakespeare's manner is always recognizable is
74
to give almost divine powers to the critic, and is especially doubtful
when the critic's standard of style is subjective, and as a thing
apart, instead of dramatic, and a thing of relations to the subject.
X. Nature in
*
Macbeth'
What correspondences are there in
'
Macbeth ' between Nature
and Man?
'
Action, life, passion
men and women
are nearly all in all

throughout Shakespeare's works, external nature being used only
as a foil to show off the lights and shades of the great drama of
human existence. Shakespeare does not paint landscape at all,
as we now understand that word, not even for his own dramatic
purposes.' (Forsyth, quoted by Furness.)
*
The literal significance of this speech (I. iii.
38)
is that the day
has been foul in respect to the weather and fair in respect to the
battle. ... It intimates a relationship, noted by Coleridge,
between Macbeth and the witches.' (Corson,
p. 231.)
*
So fair and foul a day I have not seen.' This and similar
expressions bring out the relationship between human and natural
conditions. What evidence is there that it is connected with the
forthcoming action when
*
to beguile the time
'
Macbeth is to
'
look
like the time . . . look like the innocent flower. But be the ser-
pent under it
?
' Or, may it rather indicate that Macbeth, though
pleased with the result of the battle, had a physical distaste for
slaughter ? What other signs are there of Macbeth's squeamish-
ness? Is it still likelier that Shakespeare uses nature imagery, and
such expressions as Macbeth's about the weather, because they
match the mood shown, and give the scene the right color? Com-
pare Lady Macbeth's and Duncan's expressions (I. iv.
39
and
vi. 1-9).
At the same time they find in the same signs an opposit;f
significance.
Opposite Propositions for Debate a
I.
'
In no other play has Shakespeare so represented the natij
ral world as reflecting the moral world.' (Corson.) Compai;
'
Lear,'
'
Hamlet,'
'
As You Like It'
5
MOOT POINTS
7i)
2. It is refining too much to suppose that Shakespeare, in his
day, could have meant so much philosophically and morally, as
such an interpretation of his use" of Nature in this play would
involve. Compare with the use of Nature by contemporaries of
Shakespeare, and claim that the reflection of the moral world
in Nature is modern.
XI. The Supernatural
Can the supernatural element in
*
Macbeth ' be explained away?
It might be claimed by a modem interpreter of supernatural
events that the witches were clairvoyants, who read Macbeth's
mind and simply announced what they found in it ; that the air-
drawn dagger and the ghost were both hallucinations arising from
Macblii!s-OVfixwrought. state of mind ;
that the visions the witches
showed him, with Hecate's help, resulted from their hypnotizing
him and making him see whatever they suggested.
If such interpretations would not have been possible to the
knowledge of Shakespeare's time, must we suppose that what
the poet intends to do in the play is deliberately to make use of the
supernatural in the superstitions of the time to symbolize the
powers outside of man working for his undoing, and in Macbeth
the degeneration of a soul which responds to these evil powers ?
Or is the whole supernatural paraphernalia meant to be an
objective presentation of the degenerative forces inherent in
Macbeth's mind and soul?
The action of Destiny in classic drama may be divided into two
distinct phases : the oracular,
the revelation of destiny ; the

ironical,
the malignant mockery of destiny. 'Oracles are ful-

filled in classic lore (i) by blind obedience,
(2)
by the agency of
free will, or indifference,
(3)
in spite of opposition. . . . The
three principal varieties . . . all . . . are illustrated in
*
Mac-
beth.' . . . The rise of Macbeth, taken by itself, consists in an
oracle and its fulfillment. . . . After his first excitement Macbeth
f
resolves that he will have nothing to do with the temptation (I. iii.
143-146). ... So far ... an oracular action of the second
76
type ; indifference and ignoring. But in the very next scene
(I. iv.
48)
he commits himself to the evil suggestion, and thus
changes the type of action to the first variety, ... of ooedi-
ence. ... In the latter half of the oracle, that Banquo was to
get kings, originates through Macbeth's opposition to it, that type
in which Destiny is fulfilled by the agency of a will that has
been opposing it.
,
(See Moulton,
'
Shakespeare's Dramatic Art,'
chap, vi.)
If, as Moulton thinks, this play is an example of the fulfilling
of Destiny,first through indifference to the oracle of the witches,
then through obedience to it, finally through the opposing of the
will to it, then the witches must be objective manifestations
and not the visible signs simply of Macbeth's own nature.
On the other hand, it may be claimed that 'there is a Fate
which shows like that of an old Greek tragedy, with its supernatu-
ral ministers and its oracles veiled in mystery. But through the
Passion and the Fate there appears the Moral Proportion of the
play. . . . Macbeth's ambition for sovereignty and power,
traced throughout the play, is found to be his fatal passion.
. . . Macbeth is at first entirely a free agent; he is the author of
his own passion and responsible for his own fall. . . . Then,
when Will is but a vassal to obey passion in every particular,
Macbeth is no longer a free agent; he is "passion's slave." . . .
No longer capable of controlling himself, he must take his place
with a lower order of creation and be ruled. This is the fatal-
ism of passion, the awful truth which this drama so forcibly
embodies; the truth that the moment inward liberty is gone, that
which is without interferes to wrench from the individual his out-
ward liberty.' (See Ella Adams Moore, 'Moral Proportion and
Fatalism in Macbeth,' in Poet-lore, Vol. VII., March,
1895.)
If the fatalism thus described is so prominently brought out by
Shakespeare, must not the classic element of destiny and the
supernatural be here employed more as the ethical symbols than
as the actual factors of Macbeth's tragedy, no matter how con-
cretely represented, as they must be in drama?
MOOT POINTS 'j'j
1. The supernatural element is common to all literature,
be-
cause believed in as real and as the guiding force outside man.
It is used as real in Shakespeare; and there is no reason to read
more into it than appears, nor to suppose that he, in his day,
used it with the modern skepticism which doubts its reality and
imputes to it a psychical quality. Moreover, the witches are too
completely characterized to be subjective; and the dramatic
interest is enhanced by Macbeth' s being a puppet of fate.
2. The supernatural element is used by Shakespeare in a pecul-
iar way. It can only be thoroughly accounted for by supposing
his manipulation of it here to be a remarkable anticipation of a
point of view brought out more emphatically and succinctly by
George Meredith, that virtue of character comes 'when we cast
off the scales of hope and fancy, and surrender our claims on
made chance, when the wild particles of this universe consent to
march as they are directed.' (See 'George Meredith on the
Source of Destiny,' by Emily Hooker, Poet-lore, Vol. XII.
No
2.)
Moreover, the witches are not characterized to a degree that is
inconsistent with both their dramatic presentation and their sub-
ordination to this inward destiny; the interest of the play de-
mands that Macbeth shall be a free agent; v^jrony of destiny is
in
'
MacbethLallifid,
Jo_4ustijC&f
and the play, as a whole, shows
the approach toward agreement between the old idea of destiny
and the modern idea of cause and effect.
XII. Shakespeare's Originality
1. To what extent is the plot of 'Macbeth' built up out of
Holinshed?
2. Does Shakespeare's witchcraft owe everything or nothing
, to Holinshed, Golding, and Scot?
78
i
3.
What light is thrown upon Shakespeare's originality and
style by a comparison of his 'Macbeth' with D'Avenant's version?
What light, also, does it throw upon the change in public taste
and criticism, that passages thought too extravagant and barbar-
ous for the Restoration were a part of the Elizabethan text.
4.
Is the divergence of the adaptation of
1674
(shown in
scenes given here, Part VIII.) from the original 'Macbeth' the
natural result of a different conception of the plot and of the rela-
tions of the characters, of which the altered diction and the omis-
sions, etc., are but the external signs?
5.
Should this exemplification of the historic evolution of
literary criticism caution us against decisions as to what is un-
Shakespearian in 'Macbeth,' if they are based on later taste,
especially (i) if such decisions are passed on scenes built on
Holinshed;
(2)
if they agree in taste with the adaptation of
1674; (3)
if they are unsupported by a study of the dramatic
structure of the play as a whole?
XIII. Questions in Criticism
*
Shakespeare's genius lay for comedy and humor. . . . Every
one must be content to wear a fool's coat who comes to be
dressed by him. ... In tragedy, he appears quite out of his
element; his brains are turn'd, he raves and rambles, without any
coherence, any spark of reason, or any rule to control him or set
bounds to his phrensy. ' (Rymer, 'Short Viewof Tragedy,'
1693.)
*
Shakespeare labouring with multiplicity of sublime ideas gives
himself not time to be delivered of them by the rules of slow^
endeavouritig art, crowds various figures, metaphors upon meta-
phor, runs the hazard of far-fetched expression; condescends not
to grammatical niceties.' (Upton, 'Critical Observations on
Shakespeare, '
1
746,
referring here especially to Macbeth's solilo-
quy, I. vii. 16-28.)
'
This play is deservedly celebrated for the propriety of its fic-
tions, and the solemnity, grandeur, and variety of its action; but
it has no nice discrimination of character; the events are too great
MUUT lÔliNTb
79
to
admit the
influence of particular dispositions, and the course
of the
action
necessarily determines the conduct of the agents.
. Lady
Macbeth is merely detested . . . the courage of
Macbeth
preserves some esteem.' (Johnson, as quoted by
Furness.)
'
The less that women appear on the stage generally the better
is the story; and unmarried women are left entirely out in Shake-
speare's
best plays, as in
"
Macbeth, "
"
Othello, "
"
Julius Caesar.
"
'
(Upton.)
Are the witches to be supposed as married? Scot says, in his
'Discoverie of Witchcraft,' with similar scorn of women in gen-
eral and the unmarried and aged in particular, and to the dis-
credit of witchcraft on this account : 'See whether witches be not
single, and of what credit, sexe, and age they are.'
On what ground are these criticisms justifiable? Were they
true from certain points of view, or were they never true?
Is Lady Macbeth detested by all readers now, as Dr. Johnson
said she was, or was this a feeling incident to his day?
Are readers now apt to agree with Upton that the play would
be better if Lady Macbeth and the witches were left out? Are
they likelier to consider the feminine element in Shakespeare's
Dramatis PersoncB one of the signal signs of his excellence be-
yond his day, amounting, in fact, to a long step, on the stage,
toward such an opinion as the following, of George Meredith?
'
The higher the comedy, the more prominent the part they
[women] enjoy in it. . . . Where the veil is over women's
faces, you cannot have society, without which the senses are bar-
barous.' ('An Essay on Comedy,'
pp.
22,
53,
1897.)
Do these critics utter sound strictures upon extravagance in
Shakespeare's diction, irregularities in his design, or do they but
make it clear to the modern eye that their critical powers were
for a day, the subject of them for all time?
SECOND
SECTION
PART VII. SHAKESPEARE'S LITERARY
MATERIAL
The Opening: 'Fair is foul, and foul is fair'
'
In this season was scene manie wonders and strange sights in
Albion. On Christmas daie there was an earthquake, and a great
rift of the earth made therewith in the midst of Strivehng towne,
out of the which issued such an abundant streame of water, that it
bare away the next wood that was adjoining to the river of Forth.
In the Summer the Sea rose higher, & flowed further into the
land than ever it had beene seene at anie other time. On Mid-
summer daie, which is the feast of Saint
John
Baptist, there was
such a vehement frost, that the Corne and other fruits of the
earth were blasted and killed, so that thereupon followed a great
dearth in all the countrie.'
From 'The First and Second volumes of Chronicles comprising i The
Description and historic of England, 2 The Description and historic of
Ireland,
3
The Description & historic of Scotland : First collected and pub-
lished by Raphaell Holinshed, William Harrison and others : Now newlie
augmented
& continued (with manifold matters of singular note and worthie
memorie) to the yere
1586. by John
Hooker alias Vowell Gent, and others.'
'
Historic of Scotland,' Edition of
1587,
page 168.
Macdonwald's Rebellion
'
.
. . King Malcolme in the
32
yeere of his reigne . . . and
after the incarnation of our Saviour
1034
yeers . . . was buried
in Colmekill with his ancestors . . .
'
After
Malcolme succeeded his nephue Duncane, the sonne of
his
daughter
Beatrice : for Malcolme had two daughters, the one
83
84
which was this Beatrice, being given in marriage unto one Abba
nath Crinen, a man of great nobilitie and thane of the Isles
am
west part of Scotland, bare of that mariage the foresaid
Duncane
;
The other Called Doada, was maried unto Sinell
the thane of
Glammis, by whome she had issue one Makbeth,
a valiant
gentle-
man, and one that if he had not beene somewhat
cruell of nature,
might have beene thought most woorthie the
governement of a
realme. On the other part, Duncane was so soft and gentle of
nature, that the people wished the inclinations and maners of
these two cousins to have beene so tempered and enterchange-
ablie bestowed betwixt them, that where the one had too much
clemencie, and the other of crueltie, the meane vertue
betwixt
these two extremities might have reigned by indifferent partition
in them both, so should Duncane have proved a woorthie king, and
Makbeth an excellent capteine. The beginning of Duncans reign
e
was verie quiet and peaceable without anie notable trouble
; but
after it was perceived how negligent he was in punishing offenders,
manie misruled persons tooke occasion thereof to trouble the
peace and quiet state of the common-wealth by seditious commo-
tions which first had their beginnings in this wise.
'
Banquho the thane of Lochquhaber, of whom the house of the
Stewards is descended, the which by order of linage hath now for
a long time injoied the crowne of Scotland, even till these our
daies, as he gathered the finances due to the king, and further
punished somewhat sharpelie such as were notorious offenders,
being assailed by a number of rebels inhabiting in that countrie,
and spoiled of the monie and all other things, had much a doo to
get awaie with life, after he had received sundrie grievous wounds
amongst them. Yet escaping their hands after hee was somewhat
recovered of his hurts and was able to ride, he repaired to the
court, where making his complaint to the king in most earnest
wise, he purchased at length that the offenders were sent for by
a sergeant at armes, to appeare to make answer unto such matters
as should be laid to their charge : but they augmenting their mis-
chiefous act with a more wicked deed, after they had misused the
MACDONWALD'S REBELLION
85
messenger with sundrie kinds of reproches, they finallie slue him
also.
'Then doubting not but for such contemptuous demeanor against
the kings regall authoritie, they should be invaded with all the
power the king could make, Makdowald one of great estimation
among them, making first a confederacie with his neerest friends
and kinsmen, tooke upon him to be chiefe capteine of all such
rebels, as would stand against the king, in maintenance of their
grievous offenses lately committed against him. Manie slanderous
words also, and railing tants this Makdowald uttered against his
prince, calling him a faint-hearted milkesop, more meet to governe
a sort of idle moonks in some cloister, than to have the rule of such
valiant and hardie men of warre as the Scots were. He used also
such subtill persuasions and forged allurements, that in a small
time he had gotten togither a mightie power of men : for out of
the westerne Isles there came unto him a great multitude of people,
offering themselves to assist him in that rebellious quarell, and out
of Ireland in hope of the spoile came no small number of Kernes
and Galloglasses, offering gladhe to serve under him, whither it
should please him to lead them.
*
Makdowald thus having a mightie puissance about him, incoun-
tered with such of the kings people as were sent against him into
Lochquhaber, and discomfiting them, by mere force tooke their
capteine Malcolme, and after the end of the battell smote off his
head. This overthrow being notified to the king, did put him in
wonderful! feare, by reason of his small skill in warlike affaires.
Calling therefore his nobles to a councell, he asked of them their
best advise for the subduing of Makdowald & other the rebels.
Here, in sundrie heads (as ever it happeneth) were sundrie opin-
ions, which they uttered according to everie man his skill. At
length Makbeth speaking much against the kings softnes, and
overmuch slacknesse in punishing offenders, whereby they had
such time to assemble togither, he promised notwithstanding, if

the charge were committed unto him and unto Banquho, so to
order the matter, that the rebels should be shortly vanquished &
S6
quite put downe, and that not so much as one of them should be
found to make resistance within the countrie.
*
And even so it came to passe : for being sent foorth with a new
power, at his entring into Lochquhaber, the fame of his comming
put the enimies in such feare, that a great number of them stale
secretlie awaie from their capteine Makdowald, who neverthelesse
inforced thereto, gave battell unto Makbeth, with the residue
which remained with him : but being overcome, and fleeing for
refuge into a castell (within the which his wife & children were
inclosed) at length when he saw how he could neither defend the
hold anie longer against his enimies, nor yet upon surrender to
be suffered to depart with life saved, hee first slue his wife and
children, and lastlie himselfe, least if he had yeelded simplie, he
should have beene executed in most cruell wise for an example to
other. Makbeth entring into the castell by the gates, as then set
open, found the carcasse of Macdowald lieng dead there amongst
the residue of the slaine bodies, which when he beheld, remitting
no peece of his cruell nature with that pitifuU sight, he caused the
head to be cut off, and set upon a poles end, and so sent it as a
present to the king who as then laie at Bertha. The headlesse
trunke he commanded to bee hoong up upon an high paire of
gallowes.
'
Them of the westerne Isles suing for pardon, in that they had
aided Makdowald in his tratorous enterprise, he fined at great
sums of moneie : and those whome he tooke in Lochquhaber,
being come thither to beare armor against the king, he put to
execution. Herupon the Ilandmen conceived a deadlie grudge
towards him, calling him a covenant-breaker, a bloudie tyrant, & a
cruell murtherer of them whome the kings mercie had pardoned.
With which reprochfuU words Makbeth being kindled in wrathful
ire against them, had passed over with an armie into the Isles, to
have taken revenge upon them for their liberall talke, had he not
beene otherwise persuaded by some of his friends, and partlie paci-
fied by gifts presented unto him on the behalfe of the Ilandmen,
seeking to avoid his displeasure. Thus was justice and law re-
THE NORWEYAN INVASION
87
stored againe to the old accustomed course, by the diligent means
of Makbeth.'
The Norweyan Invasion
*
Immediatelie whereupon woord came that Sweno, King of Nor-
way, was arrived in Fife with a puissant armie, to subdue the whole
realme of Scotland. . . .
'
. . . now touching the arrival of Sweno, the Norwegian king,
in Fife. . . . The crueltie of this Sweno was such that he neither
spared man, woman, nor child, of what age, condition or degree
soever they were. Whereof when K. Duncane was certified, he set
all slouthfull and lingering delaies apart, and began to assemble an
armie in most speedie wise, like a verie valiant capteine : for often-
times it happeneth, that a dull coward and slouthfull person,
constreined by necessitie, becommeth verie hardie and active.
Therefore when his whole power was come togither, he divided the
same into three battels. The first was led by Makbeth, the second
by Banquho, & the king himselfe governed in the maine battell or
middle ward, wherein were appointed to attend and wait upon his
person the most part of all the residue of the Scotish nobilitie.
*
The armie of Scotishmen being thus ordered, came unto Culros,
where incountering with the enimies, after a sore and cruell foughten
battell, Sweno remained victorious, and Malcolme with his Scots
discomfited. Hovvbeit the Danes were so broken by this battell,
that they were not able to make long chase on their enimies, but
kept themselves all night in order of battell, for doubt least the
Scots assembling togither againe might have set upon them at
some advantage. On the morrow, when the fields were discovered,
and it was perceived how no enimies were to be found abrode,
they gathered the spoile, which they divided amongst them, accord-
ing to the law of amies. Then was it ordeined by commandement
of Sweno, that no souldier should hurt either man, woman, or child,
except such as were found with weapon in hand readie to make
resistance, for he hoped now to conquer the realme without further
bloudshed.
v
88
*
But when knowledge was given how Duncane was fled to the
castell of Bertha, and that Makbeth was gathering a new power to
withstand the incursions of the Danes, Sweno raised his tents &
comming to the said castell, laid a strong siege round about it.'
'The Insane Root'
'
Duncane seeing himselfe thus environed by his enimies, sent a
secret message by counsell of Banquho to Makbeth, commanding
him to abide at Inchcuthill, till he heard from him some other
newes. In the meane time Duncane fell in fained communication
with Sweno, as though he would have yeelded up the castell into
his hands, under certeine conditions, and this did he to drive time,
and to put his enimies out of all suspicion of anie enterprise ment
against them, till all things were brought to pass that might serve
for the purpose. At length, when they were fallen at a point for
rendring up the hold, Duncane offered to send foorth of the castell
into the campe greate provision of vittels to refresh the armie,
which offer was gladlie accepted of the Danes, for that they had
beene in great penurie of sustenance manie dales before.
*
The Scots heereupon tooke the juice of mekilwoort berries, and
mixed the same in their ale and bread, sending it thus spiced &
confectioned, in great abundance unto their enimies. They rejois-
ing that they had got meate and drinke sufficient to satisfie their
bellies, fell to eating and drinking after such greedie wise, that it
seemed they strove who might devoure and swallow up most, till
the operation of the berries spread in such sort through all the
parts of their bodies that they were in the end brought into a fast
dead sleepe, that in manner it was unpossible to awake them.
Then foorthwith Duncane sent unto Makbeth, commanding him
with all diligence to come and set upon the enimies, being in easie
point to be overcome. Makbeth making no delaie, came with his
people to the place where his enimies were lodged, and first killing
the watch, afterwards entered the campe, and made such slaughter
on all sides without anie resistance that it was a woonderful matter
'THE INSANE ROOT'
89
to behold, for the Danes were so heavie of sleepe that the most
of them were slaine and never stirred : other that were awakened
either by the noise or other waies foorth, were so amazed and
dizzie headed upon their wakening, that they were not able to
make anie defense : so that of the whole number there escaped
no more but onelie Sweno himselfe and ten other persons, by whose
helpe he got to his ships lieng at rode in the mouth of Taie.
'
The most part of the mariners, when they heard what plentie
of meate and drinke the Scots had sent unto the campe, came from
the sea thither to be partakers thereof, and so were slaine amongst
their fellowes: by meanes whereof when Sweno perceived how
through lacke of mariners he should not be able to conveie
awaie his navie, he furnished one ship throughlie with such as
were left, and in the same sailed backe into Norwaie, cursing the
time that he set forward on this infortunate journie. The other
ships which he left behind him, within three days after his depar-
ture from thence, were tossed so togither by violence of an east
wind, that beating and rushing one against another, they sunke
there, and lie in the same place even unto these dales, to the great
danger of other such ships as come on that coast : for being cov-
ered with the floud when the tide commeth, at the ebbing againe
of the same, some part of them appeere above water.
'
The place where the Danish vessels were thus lost, is yet called
Drownelow sands. This overthrow received in a manner afore said
by Sweno, was verie displeasant to him and his people, as should
appeere, in that it was a custome manie yeeres after, that no
knights were made in Norwaie, except they were first sworn to
revenge the slaughter of their countriemen and friends thus slaine
in Scotland. The Scots having woone so notable a victorie, after
they had gathered & divided the spoile of the field, caused solemne
processions to be made in all places of the realme, and thanks to
be given to almightie God, that had sent them so faire a day over
their enimies.'
90
SHAKESPEARE
STUDIES: MACBETH
The Disbursement at St. Colmes Inch
*
But whilest the people were thus at their processions,
woord
was brought that a new fleet of Danes was arrived at
Kingcorne,
sent thither by Canute king of England, in revenge of his brother
Swenos overthrow. To resist these enimies, which were alreadie
landed, and busie in spoiling the countrie
;
Makbeth and Banquho
were sent with the kings authoritie, who having with them a conven-
ient power, incountred the enimies, slue part of them, and chased
the other to their ships. They that escaped and got once to their
ships, obteined of Makbeth for a great summe of gold, that such
of their friends as were slaine at this last bickering, might be buried
in saint Colmes Inch. In memorie whereof, manie old sepultures
are yet in the said Inch, there to be scene graven with the armes
of the Danes, as the maner of burieng noble men still is, and heere-
tofore hath beene used.
'A peace was also concluded at the same time betwixt the
Danes and Scotishmen, ratified (as some have written) in this
wise : That from thenceforth the Danes should never come into
Scotland to make anie warres against the Scots by anie maner of
meanes. And these were the warres that Duncane had with forren
enimies in the seventh yeere of his reigne.'
(pp.
1 19-120.)
The Witches' Prophecy and Duncan's Death according to Bece
*
Of
the Weh'dis gevin to Makbeth and Banquho. How Mak-
beith was maid Thaîe
of
Cawder;
&=
how he slew King Dun-
cane, to make himself king.
'
Nocht lang eftir hapnit ane uncouth and wounderfull thing,
be which followit, sone, ane gret alteration in the realme. Be
aventure, Makbeth and Banquho wer passand to Fores, quhair
King Duncane hapnit to be for the time, and met be the gait thre
wemen clothit in elrage and uncouth weed. Thay wer jugit, be
the pepill, to be weird sisteris. The first of thaim said to Mak-
beth,
"
Hale, Thane of Glaramis !
"
the second said, "Hale, Thane
THE WITCHES' PROPHECY
91
of Cawder
!
" and the third said,
"
Hale, King of Scotland
!
"
Than said Banquho,
"
Quwhat wemen be ye, sa unmercifull to me,
and sa favorabil to my companyeon, for ye gaif to him nocht onhe
land is and gret rentis, hot gret hord schippis and kingdomes
;
and
gevis me
nocht." To this answerit the first of their weird sisteris,
"
We schaw more felicite appering to the than to him
;
for thoucht
he happin to be ane king his empire sail end unhappilie, and nane
of his blude sail eftir him succeid ; be contrar, thow sail nevir be
king, bot of the sal cum mony kingis, quhilkis, with lang progres-
sioun, sail rejose the crown of Scotland." Als sone as thir wourdis
wer said, thay suddanlie evanist out of sicht. This prophecy and
divinatioun wes haldin mony dayis in derision to Banquho and
Makbeth for sum time, Banquho wald call Makbeth, King of Scottis,
for derisioun ; and he on the samin maner, wald call Banquho, the
fader of mony kingis. Yit, becaus al thingis succedit as thir
wemen devinit, the pepill traistit and jugit thame to be weird sis-
teris. Not lang eftir, it hapnit that the Thane of Cawder wes dis-
herist and forfaltit of his landis, for certane crimes of lese majeste
;
and his landis wer gevin be King Duncane to Makbeth. It hap-
nit in the nixt nicht, that Banquho and Makbeth wer sportand
togiddir at thair supper. Than said Banquho,
"
Thow hes gottin
all that the first two weird sisteris hecht. Restis nocht bot the
crown"; and yit he concludit to abide quhil he saw the time
ganand thairto, fermelie beleving that the thrid weird suld cum, as
the first two did afore.
'
In the mene time King Duncane maid his son Malcome Prince
of Cumbir, to signifie that he suld regne eftir him. Quhilk wes
gret displeseir to Makbeth : for it maid derogatioun to the thrid
weird, promittit afore to him be thir weird sisteris. Nochteles, he
thochte, gif Duncane wer slane, he had maist richt to the croun,
becaus he wes nerest of blud thair to, be tennour of the auld lawis
maid eftir the deith of King Fergus,
"
Quhen young children wer
unabil to govern the croun, the nerrest of thair blude sail regne.'*
Als, the respons of thir weird sisteris put him in beleif, that the
thrid weird suld cum als weill as the first two. Attour, his wife,
92
impacient of lang tary, as all wemen ar, specially quhare thay ar
desirus of ony purpos, gaif him gret artation to persew the thrid
weird, that scho micht be ane queue : calland him, oft timis, febil
cowart, and nocht desirus of honouris ; sen he durst not assailye
the thing with manheid and curage, quhilk is offerit to him be
benivolence of fortoun
;
hovvbeit sindry otheris hes assailyeit sic
thingis afore, with maist terribil jeopardyis, quhen they had not
sic sickernes to succeid in the end of thair laubouris as he had.
'
Makbeth, be persuasion of his wife, gaderit his freindis to ane
counsall at Invernes, quhare King Duncane happinnit to be for the
time. And becaus he fand sufficient oportunite, be support of
Banquho and otheris his freindis, he slew King Duncane, the VII
yeir of his regne. His body was buryit in Elgin, and efter tane
up and brocht to Colmekill, quhare it remanis yit, amang the
sepulturis of athir kingis ; fra our redemption, MXLVI yeris.'
*
Chap. Third, The Twelf Buke, CronikHs of Scotland,' written in Latin by
Hector Boece, translated by John Bellenden. First printed
1536
(and after-
wards circa
1541).
The Witches' Prophecy and Duncan's Death according to
Holinshed
'
Shortlie after happened a strange and uncouth woonder, which
afterward was the cause of much trouble in the realme of Scotland,
as ye shall after heare. It fortuned as Makbeth and Banquho
journied towards Fores, where the King then laie, they went
sporting by the waie togither without other companie, save onehe
themselves, passing thorough the woods and fields, when suddenlie
in the middest of a laund, there met them three women in strange
and wild apparell, resembling creatures of elder world, whome
when they attentivelie beheld, woondering much at the sight, the
first of them spake and said
;
All haile Makbeth, thane of Glammis
(for he had latelie entered into that dignitie and ofifice by the
death of his father Sinell). The second of them said
;
Haile Mak-
beth, thane of Cawder. But the third said ; All haile Makbeth,
that heereafter shalt be King of Scotland.
THE WITCHES' PROPHECY
93
'Then Banquho;
What maner of women (saith he) are you,
that seeme so httle favourable unto me, whereas to my fellow
heere, besides high offices ye assigne also the kingdome, appointing
foorth nothing for me at all ? Yes (saith the first of them), we
promise greater benefits unto thee than unto him, for he shall
reigne in deed, but with an unluckie end : neither shall he leave
anie issue behind him to succeed in his place, where contrairilie
thou in deed shalt not reigne at all, but of thee those shall be
borne which shall govern the Scotish Kingdome by long order of
continuall descent. Herewith the foresaid women vanished im-
mediatUe out of their sight. This was reputed at the first but
some vaine fantasticall illusion by Mackbeth and Banquho, inso-
much that Banquho would call Mackbeth in jest king of Scotland
;
and Mackbeth againe would call him, in sport likewise, the father
of manie kings. But afterwards the common opinion was that
these women were either the weird sisters, that is (as ye would
say) the goddesses of destinie, or else some nymphs or feiries,
indued with knowledge of prophesie by their necromanticall
science, bicause everie thing came to passe as they had spoken.
For shortlie after, the thane of Cawder being condemned at Fores
of treason against the king committed ; his lands, livings, and
offices were given of the king's liberalitie to Mackbeth.
'
The same night after, at supper, Banquho jested with him and
said ; Now Mackbeth thou hast obteined those things which the
two former sisters prophesied, there remaineth onelie for thee to
purchase that which the third said should come to passe. Where-
upon Mackbeth revoking the thing in his mind, began even then
to devise how he might atteine to the kingdome
:
but yet he
thought with himselfe that he must tarie a time, which should
advance him thereto (by the divine providence) as it had come to
passe in his former preferment. But shordie after it chanced that
king Duncane, having two sonnes by his wife which was the
daughter of Siward earle of Northumberland, he made the elder of
them called Malcolme prince of Cumberland, as it were thereby to
appoint him his successor in the kingdome, immediatlie after his
94
deceasse. Mackbeth sore troubled herewith, for that he saw by
this means his hope sore hindered (where, by the old lawes of the
realme, the ordinance was, that if he that should succeed were not
of able age to take the charge upon himselfe, he that was next of
bloud unto him should be admitted) he began to take counsell how
he might usurpe the kingdome by force, having a just quarell so to
doo (as he tooke the matter) for that Duncane did what in him
lay to defraud him of all maner of title and claime, which he might
in time to come, pretend unto the crowne. M
'
The woords^f thelhie_Aveird
sisters also (of whom before ye
have heard) greatlie incouraged tii mjiereunto, but speciallie_his
wife lay sore .upiJiuhim to attemptjthejhiiig, as ^he that wasvetie
a mbitlon
s,
burn i ng-in-unquendiable_desire
tQ.
beare the name_pX. a
queene. At length therefore, communicating his purposed intent
with his trustie friends, amongst whome Banquho was the chiefest,
upon confidence of their promised aid, he slue the king at Enverns,
or (as some say) at Botgosuane, in the sixt yeare of his reigne.
Then having a companie about him of such as he had made privie
to his enterprise, he caused himselfe to be proclamed king, and
foorthwith went unto Scone, where (by common consent) he
received the investure of the kingdome according to the accus-
tomed maner. The bodie of Duncane was first conveied unto
Elgine, & there buried in kinglie wise ; but afterwards it was
removed and conveied unto Colmekill, and there laid in a sepulture
amongst his predecessors, in the yeare after the birth of our
Saviour, 1046.
'
Malcolme Cammore and Donald Bane the sons of king Duncane,
for feare of their lives (which they might well know that Mackbeth
would seeke to bring to end for his more sure confirmation in the
estate) fled into Cumberland, where Malcolme remained, till time
that saint Edward the sonne of Etheldred recovered the dominion
of England from the Danish power, the which Edward received
Malcolme by way of most friendlie enterteinment : but Donald
passed over into Ireland, where he was tenderlie cherished by the
king of that land. Mackbeth, after the departure thus of Duncanes
WITCHES' MISCHIEF
95
sonnes, used great liberalitie towards the nobles of the realme,
thereby to win their favour, and when he saw that no man went
about to trouble him, he set his whole intention to mainteine
justice, and to punish all enormities and abuses, which had
chanced through the feeble and slouthfull administration of Dun-
cane.'
(pp.
169-171.)
Witches' Mischief
*
Duffe the Sonne of K. Malcolme was crowned K. at Scone
with all due solemnitie. In the beginning of his reigne, Culene
the Sonne of K. Indulph was proclaimed prince of Cumberland :
immediatlie thereupon the king transported over into the West-
erne lies, to set an order there for certeine misdemeanors used by
divers robbers and pillers of the common people. At his arrival
amongst them he called the thanes of the lies afore him, com-
manding streightlie as they would avoid his displeasure, to purge
their countries of such malefactors whereby the husbandmen and
other commons might live in quiet, without vexation of such bar-
rettors and idle persons as sought to live onlie upon other m.ens
goods.
*
The thanes upon this charge given them by the king, toke no
small number of the offenders, partlie by publike authoritie, &
partlie by lieng in wait for them where they supposed their haunt
was to resort, the which being put to execution according to that
they had merited, caused the residue of that kind of people either
to get them over into Ireland, either else to learne some manuall
occupation wherewith to get their living, yea though they were
never so great gentlemen borne. Howbeit the nobles with this
extreme rigor shewed thus by the king against their lineage, were
much offended therwith, accounting it a great dishonor for such
as were descended of noble parentage, to be constreined to get
their living with the labor of their hands, which onlie apperteined
to plowmen, and such other of the base degree as were borne to
travell for the maintenance of the nobihtie, and to serve at their
commandement by order of their birth, and in no wise after such
96
sort to be made in maner equall with them in state & condition
of life.
*
Furthermore, they murmured closelie amongst
themselves, how
the king was onlie become friend to the commons & cleargie
of
his realme having no respect to the nobilitie, but rather declared
himselfe to be an utter enimie thereof, so that he was unworthie
to have the rule of the nobles and gentlemen, unles he knew
better what belonged to their degree. This murmuring did
spread. . . .
*
In the meane time the king fell into a languishing disease, not
so greevous as strange, that none of his physicians could perceive
what to make of it. For there was scene in him no token, that
either choler, melancholic, flegme, or any other vicious humor did
any thing abound, whereby his bodie should be brought into such
decaie and consumption (so as there remained unneth* anie thing
upon him save skin and bone).
*
And sithens it appeared manifestlie by all outward signes and
tokens, that naturall moisture did nothing faile in the vitall spirits,
his colour also was fresh and faire to behold, with such livelines
of looks, that more was not to be wished for ; he had also a tem-
perat desire and appetite to his meate & drinke, but yet could he
not sleepe in the night time by any provocations that could be
devised, but still fell into exceeding sweats, which by no means
might be restreined. The physicians perceiving all their medi-
cines to want due effect, yet to put him in some comfort of helpCji
declared to him that they would send for some cunning physicians
into forreigne parts, who happilie being inured with such kind of
diseases, should easilie cure him, namelie so soone as the spring
of the yeare was once come, which of it selfe should helpe much
thervnto.'
*
Howbeit the king, though he had small hope of recoverie, yet
had he still a diligent care unto the due administration of his lawes
and good orders of his realme, devising oft with his councell about
the same. But when it was understood into what a perillous sick-
*
Scarcely.
WITCHES' MISCHIEF
97
nesse he was fallen, there were no small number, that contemn-
ing the authoritie of the magistrats, began to practise a rebellion.
And amongst the cheifest were those of Murrey land, who staieng
sundrie of the kings officers, began to rage in most cruell wise
against all such as were not consenting to their misordered tumult.
The kings physicians forbad in anie wise, that the king should be
advertised of such buSinesse, for doubt of increasing his sicknes
with trouble of mind about the same. But about the present time
there was a murmuring amongst the people, how the king was
vexed with no naturall sicknesse, but by sorcerie and magicall art
practised by a sort of witches dwelling in a towne of Murreyland,
called Fores.
'Whereupon, albeit the author of this secret talke was not
knowne : yet being brought to the kings eare, it caused him to
send foorthwith certeine wittie persons thither, to inquire of the
truth. They that were thus sent, dissembling the cause of their
jornie, were received in the darke of the night into the castell of
Fores by the lieutenant of the same, called Donwald, who continu-
ing faithfuU to the king, had kept that castell against the rebels to
the kings use. Unto him therefore these messengers declared the
cause of their comming, requiring his aid for the accomplishment
of the kings pleasure.
'
The souldiers, which laie there in garrison had an inkling that
there was some such matter in hand as was talked of amongst the
people ; by reason that one of them kept as concubine a yoong
woman, which was daughter to one of the witches as his paramour,
who told him the whole maner used by hir mother & other hir
companions, with their intent also, which was to make awaie the
king. The souldier having learned this of his lemman, told the
same to his fellowes, who made report to Donwald, and hee
shewed it to the kings messengers, and therwith sent for the yoong
damosell which the souldier kept, as then being within the castell,
and caused hir upon streict examination to confesse the whole
matter as she had scene and knew. Whereupon learning by hir
confession in what house in the towne it was where they wrought
H
98
there mischiefous mysterie, he sent foorth souldiers, about th
middest of the night, who breaking into the house, found one o|
the witches resting upon a wodden broch an image of wax at tV
fier, resembling in each feature the kings person, made and devise^
(as is to be thought) by craft and art of the divell : an other ojj
them sat reciting certeine words of inchantment, and still baste^
the image with a certeine liquor verie busilie.
'
The souldiers finding them occupied in this wise, tooke ther
togither with the image, and led them into the castell, where being
streictly examined for what purpose they went about such manner
of inchantment, they answered, to the end to make away the king :
for as the image did waste afore the fire, so did the bodie of the
king breake foorth in sweat. And as for the words of inchant-
ment, they served to keepe him still waking from sleepe, so that
as the wax ever melted, so did the kings flesh : by the which
meanes it should have come to passe, that when the wax was once
cleane consumed, the death of the king should immediatlie follow.
So were they taught by evill spirits, and hired to worke the feat by
the nobles of Murrey land. The standers by, that heard such an
abhominable tale told by these witches, streightwaies brake the
image, and caused the witches (according as they had well
^
deserved) to bee burnt to death.
'
'
It was said that the king, at the verie same time that these
things were a dooing within the castell of Fores, was delivered of
his languor, and slept that night without anie sweat breaking foorth
upon him at all, & the next dale being restored to his strength,
was able to doo anie maner of thing that lay in man to doo, as
though he had not beene sicke before anie thing at all. But
howsoever it came to passe, truth it is, that when he was restored
to his perfect health, he gathered a power of men, & with the
same went into Murrey land against the rebels there, and chasing
them from thence, he pursued them into Rosse, and from Rosse
into Cathnesse, where apprehending them, he brought them backe
unto Fores, and there caused them to be hanged up, on gallows
and gibets.'
HOW THE MURDER WAS DONE
99
How it led to Murder
'Amongest them there were also certeine yoong gentlemen,
right beautifull and goodlie personages, being neere of kin unto
Donwald capteine of the castell, and had beene persuaded to be
partakers with the other rebels, more through the fraudulent coun-
sell of diverse wicked persons, than of their ovvne accord ; where-
upon the foresaid Donwald lamenting their case, made earnest
labor and sute to the king to have begged their pardon ; but
having a plaine deniall, he conceived such an inward malice
towards the king, (though he shewed it not outwardhe at the first)
that the same continued still boiling in his stomach, and ceased
not, till through setting on of his wife, and in revenge of such
unthankefulnesse, hee found meanes to murther the king within
the foresaid castell of Fores where he used to sojourne. For the
king being in that countrie, was accustomed to lie most commonlie
within the same castell, having a speciall trust in Donwald, as a
man whom he never suspected.
'
But Donwald, not forgetting the reproch which his linage had
susteined by the execution of those his kinsmen, whome the king
for a spectacle to the people had caused to be hanged, could not
but shew manifest tokens of great griefe at home amongst his
familie : which his wife perceiving, ceassed not to travell with him,
till she understood what the cause was of his displeasure. Which
at length when she had learned by his owne relation, she as one
that bare no lesse malice in hir heart towards the king, for the Hke
cause on hir behalfe, than hir husband did for his friends, coun-
selled him (sith the king oftentimes used to lodge in his house
without anie gard about him, other than the garrison of the castell,
which was wholie at his commandement) to make him awaie, and
shewed him the meanes wherby he might soonest accomplish it.'
How the Murder was done
*
Donwald thus being the more kindled in wrath by the words of
his wife, determined to follow hir advise in the execution of so
ICXD
heinous an act. Wherupon devising with himselfe for a while
which way hee might best accomplish his curssed intent, at lengtl
he gat opportunitie, and sped his purpose as followeth. It chancec
that the king upon the daie before he purposed to depart foortl
of the castell, was long in his oratorie at his praiers, and then
continued till it was late in the night. At the last, comminj
foorth, he called such afore him as had faithfullie served him ii
pursute and apprehension of the rebels, and giving them hearti<
thanks, he bestowed sundrie honorable gifts amongst them, of th(
which number Donwald was one, as he that had beene eve
accounted a most faithfuU servant to the king.
'At length, having talked with them a long time, he got hir
into his privie chamber, onelie with two of his chamberlains, whc
having brought him to bed, came foorth againe, and then fell t(
banketting with Donwald and his wife, who had prepared diverse
delicate dishes, and sundrie sorts of drinks for their reare supper
or collation, wherat they sate up so long, till they had charged
their stomachs with such full gorges, that their heads were nc
sooner got to the pillow, but asleepe they were so fast, that a mi
might have remooved the chamber over them, sooner than tc
have awaked them out of their droonken sleepe.
*
Then Donwald, though he abhorred the act greatlie in his heart
yet through instigation of his wife, hee called foure of his servant
unto him (whome he had made privie to his wicked intent before
and framed to his purpose with large gifts) and now declaring
unto them, after what sort they should worke the feat, they gladli<
obeied his instructions, & speedilie going about the murther, the;
enter the chamber (in which the king laie) a Uttle before cock
crow, where they secretlie cut his throte as he lay sleeping, with
out anie buskling
*
at all : and immediatlie by a posterne gat
they caried foorth the dead bodie into the fields, and throwing
upon an horsse there provided readie for that purpose, the;
convey it unto a place, about two miles distant from the castell
where they staled, and gat certeine labourers to helpe them to turni
*
Bustling.
THE 'UNDIVULGED PRETENCE'
lOI
the course of a little river running through the fields there, and
digging a deepe hole in the chanell, they burie the bodie in the
same, ramming it up with stones and gravell so closelie, that set-
ting the water in the right course agame, no man could perceive
that anie thing had beene newlie digged there. This they did by
order appointed them by Donwald as is reported, for that the
bodie should not be found, & by bleeding (when Donwald should
be present (declare him to be guiltie of the murther. For such
an opinion men have, that the dead corps of anie man being slaine,
will bleed abundantlie if the murtherer be present. But for what
consideration soever they buried him there, they had no sooner
finished the work, but that they slue them whose helpe they used
herein, and streightwaies thereupon fled into Orknie.
'
Donwald, about the time that the murther was in dooing, got
him amongst them that kept the watch, and so continued in com-
panie with them all the residue of the night.'
The 'Undivulged Pretence of Treasonous Malice'
'
But in the morning when the noise was raised in the kings
chamber how the king was slaine, his bodie conveied away, and
the bed all beraied with bloud
;
he with the watch ran thither, as
though he had knowne nothing of the matter, and breaking into
the chamber, and finding cakes of bloud in the bed, and on the
floore about the sides of it, he foorthwith slue the chamberleins,
as guiltie of that heinous murther, and then like a mad man run-
ning to and fro, he ransacked everie corner within the castell, as
though it had beene to have seene if he might have found either
the bodie, or anie of the murtherers hid in anie privie place : but at
length comming to the posterne gate, and finding it open, he bur-
dened the chamberleins, whome he had slaine, with all the fault,
they having the keies of the gates committed to their keeping all
the night, and therefore it could not be otherwise (said he) but
that they were of counsell in the committing of that most detesta-
ble murther.
I02
'
Finallie, such was his over earnest diligence in the severe
inquisition and triall of the offenders heerein, that some of the
lords began to mislike the matter, and to smell foorth shrewd
tokens, that he should not be altogither cleare himselfe. But for
so much as they were in that countrie, where hee had the whole
rule, what by reason of his friends and authoritie togither, they
doubted to utter what they thought, till time and place should bet-
ter serve thereunto, and heereupon got them awaie everie man to
his home.'
Abnormal Nature
*
For the space of six moneths togither, after this heinous mur-
ther thus committed, there appeered no sunne by day, nor moone
by night in anie part of the realme, but still was the skie covered
with continuall clouds, and sometimes suche outragious windes
arose with lightenings and tempests, that the people were in great
feare of present destruction.
'
Monstrous sights also that were seene within the Scotish king-
dome that yeere were these, horsses in Louthian being of singular
bâutie and swiftness did eate their owne flesh, and would in no
wise taste anie other meate. In Angus there was a gentlewoman
brought foorth a child without eies, nose, hand, or foot. There
was a sparhawke also strangled by an owle.
*
Neither was it anie lesse woonder that the sunne, as before is
said, was continuallie covered with clouds for six moneths space.
But all men understood that the abhominable murther of King
Duffe was the cause heereof, which being revenged by the death of
the authors, in maner as before is said ; Culene was crowned as
lawfull successor to the same Duffe at Scone, with all due honor
& solemnitie, in the yeere of our Lord
972,
after that Duffe had
ruled the Scotish kingdome about the space of foure yeeres.'
(pp.
I49-I52.)
MACBETH'S REMORSE
103
Another Witch Prophecy
'
K. Natholocus, whose cruelty had caused the people to rebel,
desirous to understand somewhat of the issue of this trouble sent
one of his trustie servants, being a gentleman of that country, unto
a woman that dwelt in the Isle of Colmekill (otherwise called
lona) esteemed verie skilful! in the shewing of things to come, to
learne of hir what fortune should hap of this warre, which was
alreadie begun.
'
The witch consulting with hir spirits, declared in the end how
it should come shortlie to passe, that the king should be murthered,
not by his open enimies, but by the hands of one of his most
familiar friends, in whome he had reposed an especial trust. The
messenger demanding by whose hands that should be ? Even by
thine, saith she, as it shall be well knowen within these few dales.
The gentleman hearing these woords, railed against hir verie
bitterlie, bidding hir go for a bad witch
;
for he trusted to see her
brent before he should commit so villanous a deed. And depart-
ing from hir, he went by and by to signifie what answer he had
received ; but before he came where the king lay, his minde was
altered . . . and so coming to the king, he was led aside by him
into his privie chamber, where all other being commanded to avoid,
he declared how he had sped
;
and then falling foorthwith upon
Natholocus, with his dagger he slue him outright . . . fled with
all speed into the camp of the conspirators, and was the first that
brought news unto them of this act thus by him atchived.'
(p, 66.)
Macbeth's Remorse.

Methought I Heard a Voice'
'
. . . The blind love [K. Kenneth] bare to his owne issue
caused him to procure a detestable fact in making away one
o.' his neerest kinsmen. This was Malcolme the sonne of King
Diffe, created in the beginning of Kenneth's reigne prince of
Cumberland, by reason whereof he ought to have succeeded in
rule of the kingdom after Kenneth's death. Whereat the same
I04
Kenneth greeving not a little, for that thereby his sonnes should
be kept from injoieng the crowne, found meanes to poison him.
But though the physicians understanding by such evident signes
as appeared in his bodie, that he was poisoned indeed, yet such
was the opinion which men had of the kings honor and integritie,
that no suspicion at all was conceived that it should be his deed.
*
The cloked love also which he had shewed toward him at all
times, and so sudden commandement given by him upon the first
newes of his death, that his funeral should be celebrated in every
church and chappell for his soule ; and againe, the teares which
he shed for him, in all places where anie mention chanced to be
made of the losse which the realme had susteined by the death of
so worthie a prince, made men nothing mistrustful of the matter,
till at length some of the nobles perceiving the outward sorrow
(which he made) to passe the true griefe of the heart, began to
gather some suspicion, that all was not well : but yet bicause no
certeintie appeared, they kept their thoughts to themselves. . . .
'.
. . King Kenneth supposed the kingdom to be fullie assured
unto him and his posteritie, and thereupon indevoreth himselfe to
win the harts of the people with upright administration of justice,
and the favour of the nobles he sought to purchase with great gifts
which he bestowed amongst them. . . . Thus might he seeme
happie to all men, having the love both of his lords and commons :
but yet to himselfe he seemed most unhappie as he that could not
but still live in continuall feare, least his wicked practise concern-
ing the death of Malcolme Duffe should come to light and know-
ledge of the world. For so commeth it to passe, that such as are
pricked in conscience for anie secret offense committed, have ever
an unquiet mind. And (as the fame goeth) it chanced that a
voice was heard as he was in bed in the night time to take his
rest, uttering unto him these or the like woords in effect :
"
Think,
not Kenneth that the wicked slaughter of Malcolme Dufife by th?,'
contrived, is kept secret from the knowledge of the eternall Go
thou art he that didst conspire the innocents death, enterpris
by traitorous meanes to doo that to thy neighbour, which t
i
MACBETH ON THE THRONE
105
wouldest have revenged by cruell punishment in anie of thy sub-
jects, if it had beene offered to thy selfe. It shall therefore come
to
passe that both thou thy selfe and thy issue, through the just
vengeance of almightie God,, shall suffer woorthie punishment to
the infamie of thy house and familie for evermore. For even at
this present are there in hand secret practises to dispatch both
thee and thy issue out of the waie, that other male injoy this king-
dome which thou doost indevour to assure unto thine issue."
'
The king with this voice being stricken into great dread and
terror, passed that night without anie sleepe comming in his eies.'
Macbeth on the Throne
'Macbeth shewing himselfe a most diligent punisher of all
injuries and wrongs attempted by anie disordered persons within
his realme, was accounted the sure defense and buckler of inno-
cent people . . . and hereto he also applied his whole indevor,
to cause yoong men to exercise themselves in vertuous maners,
and men of the church to attend their divine service according
to their vocations.
'He caused to be slaine sundrie thanes, as of Cathnes, Suther-
land, Stranaverne, and Ros, because through them and their
seditious attempts, much trouble dailie rose in the realme. . . .
Such were the woorthie dooings and princelie acts of this Mack-
beth in the administration of the realme, that if he had atteined
thereunto by rightfull means, and continued in uprightnesse of
justice as he began, till the end of his reigne, he might well have
beene numbred amongest the most noble princes that anie where
had reigned. He made manie wholesome laws and statutes for
the publike weale of his subjects.'
'Lawes made by King Makbeth, set foorth according to
Hector Boetius.
'
The tenth part of all fruits that increase on the ground, shall
I06 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES: MACBETH
be given to the Church, that God may be worshipped with abla-
tions and praiers.
'He that taketh the order of knighthood, shall take an oath to
defend ladies, virgins, widows, orphans, and the commonaltie.
And he that is made king, shall be svvorne in semblable maner.
'
The eldest daughter shall inherit hir father's lands, as well as
the eldest sonne should, if the father leave no sonne behinde him.
*No office shall go by inheritance, but shall still remaine at
the king's free disposition, as shall stand with his pleasure to
assigne it.
'All such women, that are maried to anie lord or baron
(though she have no issue by him) shall yet have the thirde part
of his landes after his deceasse, and the remanent shall go to his
heires.
'All maner of lords and great barons, shall not contract matri-
monie with other on paine of death, speciallie if their lands and
roomes lie neere*togither.
'These and the like commendable lawes Makbeth caused to be
put as then in use, governing the realme for the space of ten
yeares in equall justice. But this was but a counterfet zeale of
equi.tie shewed by him, partlie against his naturall inclination to
purchase thereby the favour of the people. Shortlie after, he be-
gan to shew what he was, in stead of equitie practising crueltie.
'For the pricke of conscience (as it chanceth ever in tyrants,
and such as atteine to anie estate by unrighteous means) caused
him ever to feare, least he should be served of the same cup as
he had ministred to his predecessor.'
Banquo's Issue
'The woords also of the three weird sisters would not out of
his mind, which as they promised him the kingdome, so likewise
BANQUO'S ISSUE
I07
did they promise it at the same time unto the posteritie of Ban-
quho. He willed therefore the same Banquho with his sonne
named Fleance, to come to a supper that he had prepared for
them, which was in deed, as he had devised, present death at the
hands of certeine murderers, whom he hired to execute that
deed, appointing them to meete with the same Banquho and his
Sonne without the palace, as they returned to their lodgings, and
there to slea them, so that he would not have his house slandered,
but that in time to come he might cleare himselfe, if anie thing
were laid to his charge upon anie suspicion that might arise.
*It chanced yet by the benefit of the darke night, that though
the father were slaine, the sonne yet by the helpe of almightie
God reserving him to better fortune, escaped that danger : and
afterwards having some inkeling (by the admonition of some
friends which he had in the court) how his life was sought no
lesse than his fathers, who was slaine not by chancemedlie* (as
by the handling of the matter Makbeth woould have had it to
appeare), but even upon a prepensed devise : whereupon to avoid
further perill he fled into Wales.
'But here I thinke it shall not much make against my purpose,
if (according to th' order which I find observed in the Scottish
historic) I shall in few woords rehearse the originall line of those
kings, which have descended from the foresaid Banquho, that
they which have injoied the kingdome by so long continuance
of descent, from one to another, and that even unto these our
dales, may be knowen from whence they had their first beginning.
'Fleance therefore (as before is said) fled into Wales, where
shortlie after by his courteous and amiable behaviour he grew into
such favor and estimation with the prince of that countrie, that
he might unneath have wished anie greater; at length also he
came into such familiar acquaintance with the said princes
daughter, that she of courtesie in the end suffered him to get hir
with child; which being once understood, hir father conceived
such hatefuU displeasure towards Fleance, that he finallie slue
*
Manslaughter, killing a man without forethought.
Io8 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES: MACBETH
him.
... At the last yet she was delivered of a sonne named
Walter who within few yeares prooved a man of greater cour-
age & valiancie, than anie other had commonlie beene found,
although he had no better bringing up than (by his grand-
fathers appointment) among the baser sort of people. Howbeit,
he showed ever even from his infancie, that there reigned in him
a certeine stoutnesse of stomach, readie to attempt high enter-
prises.
*It chanced that falling out with one of his companions, after
manie tawnting words which passed betwixt them, the other to
his reproch objected that he was a bastard, and begotten in un-
lawfull bed; wherewith being sore kindled, in his raging furie he
ran upon him and slue him out of hand. Then was he glad to
flee out of Wales, and comming into Scotland to seeke some
friendship there, he happened into the companie of such Eng-
lishmen, as were come thither with queene Margaret, and
behaved himselfe so soberlie in all his demeanours, that within a
while he was highlie esteemed amongest them. Not long after by
such means atteining to the degree of high reputation, he was
sent with a great power of men into the westerne lies, into Gallo-
way, and other parts of the realme, to deliver the same from the
tyrannic and injurious oppression there exercised by divers mis-
governed persons; which enterprise according to his commission
he atchived, with such prudent policie and manhood, that im-
mediatlie upon his returne to the court, he was made lord steward
of Scotland, with assignement to receive the kings rents and
duties out of the parts of the realme.
'This Walter Steward had a sonne named Alane Steward, whowent
after with Godfreie of Bullogne duke of Loraine, and Robert duke
of Normandie sonne to king William the bastard that conquered
England, into the holie land, at what time they with other westerne
princes made the great journie thither, in the year
1099.
Alane
had issue Alexander Steward, that founded the abbeie of Pasleie of
saint Benedicts order. Walter Steward, whose valiancie was well
notified at the battell of Largis, as hereafter shall be shewed, was
BANQUO'S ISSUE I09
the Sonne of the said Alexander. The same Walter had issue two
sons, the one named Alexander fought right valiantlie in defense
of his father at the foresaid battell; and the other named Robert
Steward got the lands of Terbowtoune, and maried the heire of
Crukeistoune, from whom descended the earles of Levenox and
Dernlie. Moreover, the above mentioned Alexander Steward
that founded Paselie, had diverse mo sonnes, as John
and James,
with sundrie other. Howbeit- they tooke new surnames by the
name of those lands, unto the which they succeeded. The afore
recited John
Steward, after the death of his brother James, mar-
led the heire of Bonkill a virgine of great beautie, and had by
hir Walter Steward that inherited the lands of Bonkill, Ranfrew,
Rothessaie, Bute, and Stewatoune, after that his father the fore-
named
John
was slaine at Falkirke.
*He maried Margerie Bruce, daughter to king Robert Bruce, by
whom he had issue king Robert the second of that name. This
Robert the second tooke to wife one Isabell Mure, a damsell of
right excellent beautie, she was daughter to Sir Adham Mure
knight, and brought foorth issue, three sonnes and three daugh-
ters. The eldest sonne hight
John
Steward otherwise named
Robert, who succeeded immediatlie after his fathers deceasse, in
governance of the crowne. The second called Robert was made
earle of Fife and Menteith, also he was created duke of Albanie,
and ruled the realme of Scotland under the name of governour,
for the space of fifteene yeares. The third sonne named Alex-
ander was earle of Buchquhane and lord of Baudzenot. The eld-
est daughter was maried to James
that was the sonne and heire of
William earle of Dowglas. The second daughter was maried to
John
Dunbar, brother to George of Dunbar earle of March, and
was made to the advancement of his further fame earle of Murrey.
He begot on hir one onelie daughter, that was maried to the
Dowglas, and so Dowglas came to the earledome of Murrey.
The third daughter was maried unto
John
Lioun, that was after
made lord of Glammis.
'Moreover, the foresaid Robert that was the first of the Stew-
no
ards which ware the crowne in Scotland, maried Ewfame daugh-
ter to the earle of Rosse, and got on hir two sonnes, Walter earle
of Atholl, and David earle of Stratherne. This Walter sollicited
Robert duke of Albanie, to slea David Steward duke of Rothsaie.
And after that James the first was returned home foorth of Eng-
land, hee did what he could to moove him to slea all the lineage
of the said duke, still being in hope after the dispatch of his
kinsmen to come to the crowne himselfe, which hope mooved
him to procure his nephue Robert Steward, and Robert Graham
his daughters son, to slea king
James the first also, for the which
crime the same Walter was after convicted and destroied with all
his sonnes. His brother David earle of Buchquhane died with-
out issue, and so the lands of both these brethren returned againe
to the crowne, without anie memorie of their bloud. Of Robert
Steward duke of Albanie, came duke Murdo, who maried the
earle of Lennox daughter, and got on hir three sonnes, Walter,
Alexander, and
James.
'
Duke Murdo himselfe with his two first sonnes were slaine at
Striveling by king
James the first, and the third brother
James in
revenge thereof burnt Dumbertane, and was after chased into Ire-
land, where he deceassed without issue. Robert the third of that
name maried Annabill Drommond, daughter to sir
John Drom-
mond of Strobhall knight, and got on hir David and
James. The
first died in Falkland, and the other atteined the crowne, and
was called
James
the first and maried the ladie Jane
daughter to
John
Beauford earle of Summerset in England. He had by hir
two sonnes borne at one birth, Alexander and James. The first
died yoong, the second atteined the crowne, named
James
the
second. James the first had also six daughters, of the which the
eldest was given in mariage to the Dolphine of France, the sec-
ond to the duke of Britaine, the third to the lord of Feir, the
fourth to the lord of Dalkeith, the fift to the earle of Huntley,
and the sixt had no succession.
James
the second maried Mar-
garet daughter to the duke of Gelderland, and begot on hir three
sonnes, and two daughters.
MACBETH TURNS ON MACDUFF
III
'The first succeeded him in the kingdome, and was called
James the third : the second named Alexander was duke of Alba-
nie, and marled first the earle of Orkenies daughter, and got on
hir Alexander, that was afterward bishop of Murrey, and then
parting with hir went into France, where he maried the count-
esse of Bullogne, and begot on hir
John
Steward duke of Albanie,
that was governor of Scotland manie yeeres in the minoritie of
James the fift. The third sonne,
John Steward, was earle of Mar,
whose chance was to be slaine in the Cannogat in a bathfat.
The first daughter of James the second was maried to the lord
Boid, who begot on hir a sonne that was slaine by the lord Mon-
gumrie, and a daughter that was maried to the earle of Cassels.
After the death of the Lord Boid, the husband of this first daugh-
ter of James the second, she was eftsoones maried to the lord
Hammilton, and by that means was the house of the Hammiltons
honored with the kings bloud. The other sister was maried to
the lord Creichton, of whom came small succession woorthie to
be mentioned. James the third married Margaret daughter to the
king of Denmarke. Of the which mariage was born James the
fourth, Alexander that was bishop of saint Andrews and Duke
of Albanie, and
John
Steward earle of Mar, but these two died
without issue.
'James the fourth maried Margaret daughter to king Henrie
the seventh of England, and begot on hir
James
the fift, who
marieng first the ladie Magdalen daughter to Francis the French
king, had no issue by hir, for that she died in the yeere next
after hir comming into Scotland, and then shortlie after the said
James
the fift maried the ladie Marie de Lorrein, duchesse of
Lonuile, a widow, and by hir had he issue Marie queene of Scot-
land, that tooke to husband Henrie Steward lord Dernlie, by
whom she had issue Charles James,
now king of Scotland.'
Macbeth turns on Macduff
'But to returne unto Makbeth, in continuing the historie, and
to begin where I left, ye shall understand that after the contrived
112 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES:
MACBETH
slaughter of Banquho, nothing prospered with the foresaid Mak-
beth
:
for in maner everie man began to doubt his ovvne life, and
durst unneth appeare in the kings presence; and even as there
were manie that stood in feare of him, so likewise stood he in
feare of manie, in such sort that he began to make those awaie
by one surmized cavillation or other, whome he thought most
able to worke him anie displeasure.
'At length he found such sweetnesse by putting his nobles thus
to death, that his earnest thirst after bloud in this behalfe might
in nowise be satisfied : for ye must consider he wan double profit
(as hee thought) hereby: for first they were rid out of the way
whome he feared, and then againe his coffers were inriched by
their goods which were forfeited to his use, whereby he might
better mainteine a gard of armed men about him to defend his
person from injurie of them whome he had in anie suspicion.
Further, to the end he might the more cruellie oppresse his sub-
jects with all tyrantlike wrongs, he builded a strong castell on the
top of an hie hill called Dunsinane, situate in Gowrie, ten miles
from Perth, on such a proud height, that standing there aloft, a
man might behold well neere all the countries of Angus, Fife,
Stermond, and Ernedale, as it were lieng underneath him. This
castell then being founded on the top of that high hill, put the
realme to great charges before it was finished, for all the stuffe
necessarie to the building could not be brought up without much
toile and businesse. But Makbeth being once determined to
have the worke go forward, caused the thanes of each shire within
the realme to come and helpe towards that building, each man
his course about.
'At the last, when the turne fell unto Makduffe thane of Fife to
build his part, he sent workemen with all needfull provision, and
commanded them to, shew such diligence in everie behalfe, that
no occasion might bee given for the king to find fault with him,
in that he came not himselfe as other had doone, which he re-
fused to doo, for doubt least the king bearing him (as he partlie
understood) no great good will, would laie violent hands upon
MACDUFFS FLIGHT
II3
him, as he had doon upon diverse other. Shortlie after, Mak-
beth comming to behold how the worke went forward, and
bicause he found not Makduffe there, he was sore offended, and
said; I perceive this man will never obeie my commandements,
till he be ridden with a snaffle: but I shall provide well inough
for him.'
The Witches again
'Neither could he afterwards abide to looke upon the said
Makduffe, either for that he thought his puissance over great:
either else for that he had learned of certaine wizzards, in whose
words he put great confidence (for that the prophesie had hap-
pened so right, which the three faries or weird sisters had de-
clared unto him) how that he ought to take heed of Makduffe,
who in time to come would seeke to destroie him.
'And surelie hereupon had he put Makduffe to death, but that
a certeine witch, whome hee had in great trust, had told that he
never should be slaine with man borne of anie woman, nor van-
quished till the wood of Bernane came to the castell of Dun-
sinane. By this prophesie, Makbeth put all fear out of his heart
supposing he might do what he would, without anie fear to be
punished for the same, for by the one prophesie he beleeved it
was unpossible for anie man to vanquish him, and by the other
unpossible to slea him. This vaine hope caused him to doo
manie outragious things, to the greevous oppression of his
subjects.'
Macduff's Flight. The Massacre at Fife
'At length Makduffe, to avoid perill of life, purposed with
himselfe to passe into England, to procure Malcolme Cammore
to claime the crowne of Scotland. But this was not so secretlie
devised by Makduffe, but that Makbeth had knowledge given him
thereof: for kings (as is said) have sharpe sight like unto Lynx,
and long ears like unto Midas. For Makbeth had in everie noble
mans house, one slie fellow or other in fee with him, to reveale
114
all that was said or doone within the same, by which slight he
oppressed the most part of the nobles of his realme.
'Immediatlie then, being advertised whereabout
Makduffe
went, he came hastily with a great power into Fife, and foorth-
with besieged the castell where Makduffe dwelled, trusting to
have found him therein. They that kept the house, without anie
resistance opened the gates, and suffered him to enter, mistrust-
ing none evill. But neverthelesse Makbeth most cruellie caused
the wife and children of Makduffe, with all other whom he found
in that castell, to be slaine. Also he confiscated the goods of
Makduffe, proclamed him traitor, and confined him out of all
the parts of his realme; but Macduffe was alreadie escaped out
of danger, and gotten into England unto Malcolme Cammore, to
trie what purchase hee might make by meanes of his support, to
revenge the slaughter so cuellie executed on his wife, his children,
and other friends.'
Macduff and Malcolm
*
At his comming unto Malcolme, he declared into what great
miserie the estate of Scotland was brought, by the detestable
cruelties exercised by the tyrant Makbeth, having committed
manie horrible slaughters and murders, both as well of the nobles
as commons, for the which he was hated right mortallie of all his
liege people, desiring nothing more than to be delivered of that
intollerable and heavie yoke of thraldome, which they susteined
at such a caitaifes hands.
'Malcolme hearing Makduffes woords, which he uttered in verie
lamentable sort, for meere compassion and verie ruth that pearsed
his sorrowfull hart, bewailing the miserable state of his countrie,
he fetched a deepe sigh; which Makduffe perceiving, began to
fall most earnestlie in hand with him, to enterprise the deliver-
ing of the Scotish people out of the hands of so cruell and bloudie
a tyrant, as Makbeth by too manie plaine experiments did shew
himselfe to be : which was an easie matter for him to bring to
passe, considering not onlie the good title he had, but also the
MACDUFF AND MALCOLM 1
15
earnest desire of the people to have some occasion ministred,
whereby they might be revenged of those notable injuries, which
they
daillie susteined by the outrageous crueltie of Makbeths
misgovernance.
Though Malcolme was verie sorrowfull for the
oppression of his countriemen the Scots, in maner as Makduffe
had declared; yet doubting whether he were come as one that
ment unfeinedlie as he spake, or else as sent from Makbeth to
betraie him, he thought to have some further triall, and there-
upon
dissembling his mind at the first, he answered as foUoweth:
'"I am trulie verie sorie for the miserie chanced to my
countrie of Scotland, but though I have never so great affection
to relieve the samie, yet by reason of certeine incurable vices,
which reigne in me, I am nothing meet thereto. First, such
immoderate lust and voluptuous sensualitie (the abhominable
founteine of all vices) followeth me, that if I were made king of
Scots, I should seeke to defloure young maids and matrones, in
such wise that mine intemperancie should be more importable
unto you, than the bloudie tyrannie of Makbeth now is." Heere-
unto Makduffe answered: "This suerlie is a verie evill fault, for
manie noble princes and kings have lost both lives and king-
domes for the same; neverthelesse there are women enow in
Scotland, and therefore follow my counsell. Make thy selfe
king, and I shall conveie the matter so wiselie, that thou shalt be
so satisfied at thy pleasure in such secret wise, that no man shall
be aware thereof."
'
Then said Malcolme,
"
I am also the most avaritious creature
on the earth, so that if I were king, I should seeke so manie
waies to get lands and goods, that I would slea the most part of
all the nobles of Scotland by surmized accusations, to the end I
might injoy their lands, goods, and possessions; and therefore
to show you what mischiefe may insue on you through mine
unsatiable covetousnes, I will rehearse unto you a fable. There
was a fox having a sore place on him overset with a swarme of
flies, that continuallie sucked out hir bloud :
and when one that
came by and saw this manner, demanded whether she would have
Il6 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES: MACBETH
the flies driven beside hir, she answered no: for if these flies
that are alreadie full, and by reason thereof sucke not verie
egerlie, should be chased awaie, other that are emptie and fellie
an hungred should light in their places, and sucke out the residue
of my bloud farre more to my greevance than these, which now
being satisfied doo not much annoie me. Therefore saith Mal-
colme, suffer me to remaine where I am, least if I atteine to the
regiment of your realme, mine unquenchable avarice may proove
such; that ye would thinke the displeasures which now grieve
you, should seeme easie in respect of the unmeasurable outrage,
which might insue through my comming amongst you."
'Makduffe to this made answer, "how it was a far woorse fault
than the other: for avarice is the root of all mischiefe, and for
that crime the most part of our kings have beene slaine and
brought to their finall end. Yet notwithstanding follow my
counsell, and take upon thee the crowne. There is gold and
riches inough in Scotland to satisfie thy greedie desire." Then
said Malcolme again, "I am furthermore inclined to dissimula-
tion, telling of leasings and all other kinds of deceit, so that I
naturallie rejoise in nothing so much as to betraie and deceive
such as put anie trust or confidence in my woords. Then sith
there is nothing that more becommeth a prince than constancie,
veritie, truth, and justice, with the other laudable fellowship of
those faire and noble vertues which are comprehended onelie in
soothfastnesse, and that lieng utterlie overthroweth the same; you
see how unable I am to governe anie province or region: and
therefore sith you have remedies to cloke and hide all the rest of
my other vices, I pray you find shift to cloke this vice amongst
the residue."
'
Then said Makduffe : "This yet is the woorst of all, and there
I leave thee, and therefore sale; Oh ye unhappie miserable
Scotishmen, which are thus scourged with so manie and sundrie
calamities, ech one above other! Ye have one curssed and
wicked tyrant that now reigneth over you, without anie right or
title, oppressing you with his most bloudie crueltie. This other
MACDUFF AND MALCOLM II7
that hath the right to the crowne, is so replet with the inconstant
behaviour and manifest vices of Englishmen, that he is nothing
woorthie to injoy it: for it is by his owne confession he is not
onelie avaritious, and given to unsatiable lust, but so false a
traitor withall, that no trust is to be had unto anie woord he
speaketh. Adieu Scotland, for now I account my selfe a ban-
ished man for ever, without comfort or consolation
:"
and with
those woords the brackish teares trickled downe his cheekes verie
abundantlie.
'At last, when he was readie to depart, Malcolme tooke him
by the sleeve, and said :
"
Be of good comfort Makduffe, for I
have none of these vices before remembred, but have jested with
thee in this manner, onelie to proove thy mind: for diverse
times heeretofore hath Makbeth sought by this manner of meanes
to bring me into his hands, but the more slow I have shewed my
selfe to condescend to thy motion and request, the more dili-
gence shall I use in accomplishing the same." Incontinentlie
heereupon they imbraced ech other, and promising to be faithfuU
the one to the other, they fell in consultation how they might
best provide for all their businesse, to bring the same to good
effect. Soone after, Makduffe repairing to the borders of Scot-
land, addressed his letters with secret dispatch unto the nobles of
the realme, declaring how Malcolme was confederat with him,
to come hastilie into Scotland to claime the crowne, and there-
fore he required them, sith he was right inheritor thereto, to
assist him with their powers to recover the same out of the hands
of the wrongfull usurper.
'In the meane time, Malcolme purchased such favor at king
Edwards hands, that old Siward earle of Northumberland was
appointed with ten thousand men with him to go into Scotland,
to support him in this enterprise, for recoverie of his right. After
these newes were spread abroad in Scotland, the nobles drew
into two severall factions, the one taking part with Makbeth,
and the other with Malcolme. Heereupon insued oftentimes
sundrie bickerings, and diverse light skirmishings : for those that
Il8 SHAKESPEARE STUDIES: MACBETH
were of Malcolmes side, would not jeopard to joine with their
enimies in a pight field, till his comnaing out of England to their
support.'
(pp. 172-176.)
King's Cures
'
During the abod of these two kings at Yorke [King William
and King
John] there was brought unto him a child of singular
beautie, sonne and heire of a gentleman of great possessions in those
parties, being sore vexed with diverse and sundrie diseases ; for
one of his eies was consumed and lost through an issue which it
had of corrupt and filthie humors
;
the one of his hands was dried
up ; the one of his feet was so taken that he had no use thereof;
and his tongue likewise that he could not speake. The physicians
that saw him . . . judged him incurable. Nevertheless, king
William, making a crosse on him, restored him immediatlie to
health.'
(p.
193.)
Birnam Wood comes to Dunsinane. Macbeth Slain
'But after that Makbeth perceived his enimies power to in-
crease, by such aid as came to them foorth of England with his
adversarie Malcolme, he recoiled backe into Fife, there purposing
to abide in campe fortified, at the castell of Dunsinane, and to
fight with his enemies, if they ment to pursue him
;
howbeit some
of his friends advised him, that it should be best for him, either
to make some agreement with Malcolme, or else to flee with all
speed into the lies, and to take his treasure with him, to the end
he might wage sundrie great princes of the realme to take his
part, and reteine strangers, in whome he might better trust than
in his owne subjects, which stale dailie from him : but he had
such confidence in his prophesies, that he beleeved he should
never be vanquished, till Birnane wood were brought to Dunsinane
;
nor yet to be slaine with anie man, that should be or was borne of
anie woman.
'Malcolme following hastilie after Makbeth, came the night
BIRNAM WOOD COMES TO DUNSINANE
119
before the battell unto Birnane wood : and when his armie had
rested a while there to refresh thera, he commanded everie man to
get a bough of some tree or other of that wood in his hand, as big
as he might beare, and to march foorth therewith in such wise, that
on the next morrow they might come closelie and without sight in
this manner within view of his enimies. On the morrow when
Makbeth beheld them comming in this sort, he first marvelled what
the matter ment, but in the end remembred himselfe that the
prophesie which he had heard long before that time, of the com-
ing of Birnane wood to Dunsinane castell, was likelie to be now
fulfilled. Nevertheless, he brought his men in order of battell, and
exhorted them to doo valiantlie, howbeit his enimies had scarselie
cast from them their boughs, when Makbeth perceiving their num-
bers, betooke him streict to flight, whome Makduffe pursued with
great hatred, even till he came unto Lunfannaine, where Makbeth
perceiving that Makduffe was hard at his backe, leapt beside his
horsse, saieng :
"
Thou traitor, what meaneth it that thou shouldest
thus in vaine follow me that am not appointed to be slaine by anie
creature that is borne of a woman, come on therefore, and receive
thy reward which thou hast deserved for thy paines," and there-
withall he lifted up his swoord thinking to have slaine him.
*
But Makduffe quicklie avoiding from his horsse, yer he came at
him, answered (with his naked swoord in his hand) saieng :
"
It is
true Makbeth, and now shall thine insatiable crueltie have an end,
for I am even he that thy wizzards have told thee of, who was
never born of my mother, but ripped out of her wombe :
"
there-
withall he stept unto him, and slue him in the place. Then cut-
ting his head from his shoulders he *set it upon a pole, and brought
it unto Malcolme. This was the end of Makbeth, after he had
reigned
1
7
yeeres over the Scotishmen. In the beginning of his
reigne he accomplished manie woorthie acts, verie profitable to
the commonwealth (as ye have heard) but afterward by illusion of
the divell, he defamed the same with most terrible crueltie. He
was slaine in the yeere of the incarnation,
1057,
and in the 16
yeere of king Edwards reign over the Englishmen.'
(p. 176.)
120
Sejrton
*
Manie new surnames were taken up at this time amongst them,
as Cauder, Lokart, Gordon, Seiton. . . . Manie of them that
before were thanes, were at this time made earles, as Fife, Men-
teth, AthoU, Levenox, Murrey, Cathnes, Rosse, and Angus. These
were the first earles that have beene heard of amongst the
Scotishmen.'
(p. 176.)
The Siwards
'
Siward earle of Northumberland with a great power of horsse-
men went into Scotland, and in battell put to flight Mackbeth. . . .
It is recorded also, that in the foresaid battell, in which earle
Siward vanquished the Scots, one of Siwards sonnes chanced to
be slaine, whereof, although the father had good cause to be sor-
owfull, yet when he heard that he died of a wound which he had
received in fighting stoutlie in the forepart of his bodie, and that
with his face towards the enimie, he greatly rejoised thereat, to
heare that he died so manfullie. But here is to be noted, that not
now, but a little before (as Henrie Hunt saith) that earle Siward
went into Scotland himselfe in person, he sent his sonne with an
armie to conquere the land, whose hap was there to be slaine
;
and when his father heard the newes, he demanded whether he
received the wound whereof he died, in the forepart of the bodie,
or in the hinder part : and when it was told him that he received
it in the forepart ;
"
I rejoise (saith he) even with all my heart, for
I would not wish either to my sonne nor to myselfe anie other
kind of death."
'
(' The Eight Booke of the Historie of England,'
'
The fifth Chapter.')
*
In Thunder, Lightning, or in Raine
'
'Such faithlesse people ... are also persuaded, that neither
haile nor snowe, thunder nor Hghtning, raine nor tempestuous winds
'HECATE! YOU LOOK ANGERLY'
121
come from the heavens at the commandement of God : but are
raised by the cunning and power of witches.'
From 'The discoverie of witchcraft, Wherein the lewde dealing of witches
and witchmongers is notablie detected &c.' By Reginald Scot. Edition
of
1584.
*
I come, Graymalkin 1 Paddock Calls
'
*
Som saie they can transubstantiate themselves and others, and
take the forms and shapes of asses, woolves, . . . dogs &c. Some
say they can keepe divells and spirits in the likenesse of todes and
cats.
*
They can raise spirits . . . inhibit the sunne, and staie both,
daie and nights changing the one into the other. They can go in
and out of awger holes, & saile in an egge shell, a cockle or muscle
shell, through and under the tempestuous seas.'
(p.
5.)
What are these, so withered

'
*
One sort of such are said to bee witches, are women which be
commonly old, lame, bleare-eied, pale, fowle, and full of wrinkles :
poore, sullen, . . . such as knowe no religion : in whose drousie
minds the divell hath gotten a fine seat ; so as, what mischiefe,
mischance, calamitie, or slaughter is brought to passe, they are
easilie persuaded the same is doone by themselves ; ... so firme
and steadfast in their opinions, as whoever shall onelie have respect
to the constancie of their words uttered, would easilie beleeve they
were true indeed.'
(p.
7.)
'
Hecate ! you look angerly
'
*
It may not be omitted that certeine wicked women following
Sathans provocations . . . beleeve and professe that in the night
times they ride abroad with Diana, the goddesse of the Pagans,
or else with Herodias . . . and do whatever these fairies or ladies
command.'
(p. 66.)
122
*
Although it be quite against the haire, and contrarie to the
divels will, contrarie to the witches oth, promise, and homage,
and contrarie to all reason, that witches should helpe anie thing
that is bewitched ; but rather set forward their masters businesse :
yet we read In Malleo Maleficarum, of three sorts of witches
;
affirmed by all the writers hereupon. . . . One can hurt &
not helpe, the second can helpe and not hurt, the third can
both helpe and hurt. And among the hurtful! witches, he
saith there is one sort more beastlie than any kind of beastes,
saving woolves : These be they (saith he) that raise haile, tem-
pests, and hurtfuU weather ; as lightening, thunder &c. . . .
These can passe from place to place in the aire invisible. . . .
These can bring trembling to the hands, and strike terror into the
minds of them that apprehend them. These can manifest unto
others things hidden and lost, and foreshew things to come ; and
see them as though they were present. These can alter mens
minds.'
(pp.
9-10.)
*
The Ingredients of our Cauldron
'
'The toies which are said to procure love & are exhibited in
their poison looving cups, are these : . . . the braine of a cat, of a
newt, or of a lizard : the bone of a greene frog . . .
'
(p. 124.)
*
So as, if there be anie children unbaptised, or not garded with
the Signe of the Crosse, or orizons ; then the witches may and
doo catch them from their mothers sides in the night or out of
their cradles, or otherwise kill them with their ceremonies
;
and
after buriall steale them out of their graves, and seeth them in a
caldron, untill their flesh be made potable.'
(p. 41.)
'
Witchcraft Celebrates Pale Hecate's Offerings
'
'The doings of Medea . . . doo give to understand
That nothing is so hard but peyne and travell doo it win
For fortune ever favoreth such as boldly doo begin
:
'PALE HECATE'S OFFERINGS' 1
23
That women both in helping and in hurting have no match
When they too eyther bend their wits.'
Prefixed by Golding to his Ovid.
'
The XV Bookes of P. Ovid-
ius Naso, entytuled Metamorphosis, translated oute of Latine into
English meeter by Arthur Golding Gentleman. A Worke very
pleasaunt and delectable.'
With skill, heede, and judgment, this worke must be read.

For else to the Reader it standes in small stead.'
*
1567.
Imprynted at London, by Willyam Seres.'
'
She went me to an Altar that was dedicate of olde
To Persys daughter Hecate (of whome the witches holde
As of their Goddesse) standing in a thicke and secrete wood
But I will put in proofe
A greater gift than you require and more for your behoofe
So our three formed Goddesse graunt with present helpe to stand
A furthrer of the great attempt the which I take in hand.
Before the Moone should circlewise close both hir homes in one,
Three nightes were yet as then to come. Assoone as that she shone
Most full of light, and did behold the earth with fulsome face,
Medea, with hir hair not trust so much as in a lace,
But flaring on her shoulders twaine, and barefoote, with hir gowne
Ungirded, gate hir out of doores and wandred up and downe
Alone the dead time of the night, both Man, and Beast, and Bird
Were fast asleepe : the Serpents flie in trayling forward stird
So softly as ye would have thought they still asleepe had bene.
The Moystring Ayre was whist, no leafe ye could have moving sene.
The starres alonly faire and bright did in the welkin shine.
To which she lifting up hir handes did thrice herself encline
:
And thrice with water of the brooke hir haire besprincled shee
:
And gasping thrice she opte hir mouth : and bowing downe hir knee
Upon the bare hard ground, she said : O trustie time of night
Most faithful unto privities, O golden starres whose light
Doth jointly with the Moone succeede the beames that blaze by day.
And thou, three-headed Hecate, who knowest best the way
To compasse this our great attempt, and a t our chiefest stay
:
124
Ye Charmes & Witchcrafts, & thou Earth which both with herbe & weed
Of mightie working furnishest the Wizardes at their neede
:
Ye Ayres & Windes : ye Elves of Hilles, of Brookes, of Woods alone,
Of standing Lakes, and of the Night approche ye everychone
Through helpe of whom (the crooked bankes much wondring at the thing)
I have compelled streames to run cleane backward to their spring :
By charmes I make the calme Seas rough, & make the rough Seas plaine,
And cover all the Skie with Cloudes, and chase them thence againe.
By charmes I raise and lay the windes, and burst the Vipers
Jaw,
And from the bowells of the Earth both stones and trees doe draw.
Whole woods and Forests I remove : I make the Mountaines shake,
And even the Earth it selfe to grone and fearfully to quake.
I call up dead men from their graves: and thee, O lightsome Moone,
I darken oft, though beaten brasse abate thy perill soone.
Our Sorcerie dimmes the Morning faire, and darkes the Sun at Noone,
Now have I need of herbes.
Such herbes of them as liked hir she puUde up roote & rinde.
Or cropt them with a hooked knife, and many she did finde,
A certaine kind of lively grasse she gathered with hir handes,
The name thereof was scarsly knowen or what the herbe could doe,
Untill that Glaucus afterward was changed thereunto.
Nine days with winged Dragons drawen, nine nights in Chariot swift
She searching everie field and frith from place to place did shift.
She would none other house than heaven to hide hir head as tho
:
But kept hir still without the doores : and as for man was none
That once might touch hir. Altars tvvayne of Turfe she builded : one
Upon hir left hand unto Youth, another on the right
To Hecat. Both the which as soon as she had dight
With Vervain and with other shrubbes that on the fieldes doe rise,
Not farre from thence she digde two pits : and making sacrifice,
Did cut a couple of blacke Rams throtes and filled with their blood
The open pit, on which she pourde of warme milke, pure and good,
A boll full, and another boll of honie clarifide.
And babling to hir selfe therewith
with mumbling long ....
Before the altars
She willed Jason thence a great way off to go
And likewise all the Ministers that served hir as tho
;
'PALE HECATE'S OFFERINGS'
12$
And not presume those Secretes with unhallowed eyes to see.
They did as she commanded them. When all were voyded, shee
With scattred haire about hir cares, like one of Bacchus froes,
Devoutly by and by about the burning Altars goes;
And dipping in the pits of bloud a sord of clifted brandes,
Upon the Altars kindled them that were on bothe hir handes.
And thrice with brimstone, thrice with fire, and thrice with water pure
She purged Aesons aged corse that slept and slumbered sure.
The medicine seething all the while a wallop in the pan
Of brasse, to spirt and leape aloft and gather froth began.
There boyled she the rootes, seedes, flowres, leaves, stalkes & juice togither,
Which from the fieldes of Thessalie she late had gathered thither.
She cast in also precious stones fetcht from the furthest East,
And which the ebbing Ocean washt fine gravell from the West.
She put thereto the deaw that fell upon a Monday night :
And flesh and feathers of a Witch, a cursed odious wight
Which in the likenesse of an Owle abrode a nightes did flie,
And Infants in their cradel chaunge or suck them that they die.
The singles also of a Wolf which when he list could take
The shape of man, and when he list the same againe forsake.
And from the river Cyniphis which is in Lybie lande
She had the fine sheere scaled filmes of water snayles at hand.
And of an endlesse lived heart the liver had she got.
To which she added of a Crowe that then had lived not
So little as nine hundred yeares the head and Bill also.
Now when Medea had with these and with a thousand mo
Such other kinde of namelesse things bestead her purpose through
For lengthening of the old mans life, she tooke a withered bough
Cut lately from an Olyf tree, and tumbling all togither,
Did raise the bottome to the brim ;
and as she stirred hither
And thither with the withered sticke, behold, it waxed greene.
Anon the leaves came budding out : and sodenly were scene
As many berries dangling downe as well the bough could beare
;
And where the fire had from the pan the scumming cast, or where
The scalding drops did fall, the ground did spring-like florish there,
And flowers with fodder fine and soft immediately arose.'
PART VIII. LITERARY ILLUSTRATIONS
Canidia's Witchcraft, from Horace.
'
Satire VIII.'
*
I MYSELF saw Canidia stalking along with her sable robe tucked
up, naked were her feet, dishevelled her hair, she howled in
company with the elder Sagana : their ghastly color made them
both horrible to look on. Then they began to scrape the earth
with their nails, and to tear with their teeth a black lamb ; the
blood was all poured into a trench, that from it they might entice
the spirits of the dead, the souls that were to give responses.
There was an image of wool there with another of wax ; the larger
was that of wool ; it was to punish the smaller form
;
for the waxen
one seemed as in suppliant guise, just about to perish as by a
slave's death. One of the witches calls upon Hecate, the other on
fierce Tisiphone ; then might you see serpents and hell-hounds
roaming about, and the moon blushing and hiding herself behind
the tall sepulchres, that she might not witness such deeds. Why
need I describe the details? how the ghosts, in converse with
Sagana, made the place echo to their sad, shrill cries, and how
they buried in the ground the beard of a wolf, with the teeth of a
spotted snake, and how the fire blazed more freely, fed by the
effigy of wax, and how I shuddered at the words and deeds of the
two witches. I, a witness, but not unavenged, for as loud as
the noise of a bursting bladder was the crack of my fig wood ; off
ran the two into the city.'
The Moving Wood
'The Valiaunt COURAGE and policie of the Kentishmen with long
TAYLES, WHERBY THEY KEPT THEIR ANCIENT LAWES AND CUSTOMES WHICH
William the Conqueror so ght to take from them,' (To the tune of
'
Rogers.')
126
THE
MOVING WOOD
1
27
'
When as the Duke of Normandy
with
glistering speare and shield
Had entred into fayre England
and foiled his foes in fielde.
'
Upon Christmas Day in solemne sort
then was he crowned here
By
Albert Archbishop of Yorke
with many a noble peere.
'
Which being done, he changed quite
the custome of this land
And punisht such as daily sought
his statutes to withstand.
*
And many cities he subdude
faire London with the rest
But Kent did still withstand his force
which did his lawes detest.
To Dover then he took his way
The Castle downe to fling,
Which Averagus builded there
the noble Britaine King.
'
Which when the brave Archbishop bold
of Canterburie knew
The Abbot of St
Austine's eke
with all their gallant crue
'
They set
themselves in armour bright
these mischiefes to prevent
With all the yeomen brave and bold
that were in fruitful Kent.
'
At Canterbury they did meet
upon a certaine day
With sword and shield, with bill and bow
to stop the
Conqueror's way.
' "
Let us not live like bondmen poor
to Frenchmen in their pride
But keep our ancient libertie
What chaunce so e'er betide
'
"
And rather die in bloudie fielde
in manlike courage prest
Then to endure the servile yoake
which we thus much detest !
"
128
SHAKESPEARE
STUDIES:
MACBETH
*
Thus did the Kentish
commons crie
unto their leaders still
And so marched forth in warlike sort,
and stood at Swanseahill.
'
Where in the woodes they hid themselves
under the shadow green
Thereby to get them vantage
good
of all their foes unseene.
And for the conquerors
coming there
they privily laide waight
And thereby
sodainely
appald
his lofty high conceipt
'
For when they spied his approch
in place where they did stand
Then marched
forth they to hem him in
each man with bough in hand.
'
So that unto the Conqueror's sight
amazed as he stood
They seemed to be a walking
grove
or els a mooving wood.
'
The shape of men he could not see
the boughs did hide them so,
And how his heart did quake for fear
to see a forest goe !
Before, behind, and on each side,

as he did caste his eye
He spide these woods with sober pace
approch to him full nye.
'
But when the Kentish men had thus
enclosed the Conqueror round
Most suddenly they drew their swordes
and threw the boughs to ground.
'
Their banners they displaid in sight,
their trumpets sounde a charge
Their ratling drummes strike up alarum
their troopes stretch out at large.
'
The Conqueror, with all his traine
were thereat sore aghast
And most in peril when he thought
all peril had beene past.
A PRANKISH
'MOVING WOOD' I29
'
Unto the Kentishmen he sent
the cause to understand
For what intent and for what cause
they took the war in hand ?
'
To whom they made this short replye
"
For Liberty we fight
And to enjoy King Edward's laws
The which we hold our right,"
Then said the dreadfuU Conquerour

"
You shall have what you will,
Your ancient customs and your lawes
so that you will be still.
"
And each thing else that you will crave
with reason at my hand
So that you will acknowledge me
Chiefe Kinge of faire England."
'
The Kentish men agreed hereon
and laid their arms aside
And by these means King Edward's laws
in Kent doth still abide.
And in no place in England else

those customs doe remain
Which they by manly policie
did of Duke William gaine.'
A ballad by Thomas Deloney,
*
the Ballading silkweaver,' who began to
versify about 1586,
and died in 1600, from 'Strange-Histories, or Songes, and
Sonnets of Kings, Princes, Dukes, Lordes, Ladyes, Knights and gentlemen,
very pleasant either to be read or songe
;
and a most excellent warning for all
estates. Imprinted at London for W. Burbey, and are to be sold at his Shop
in Gratious Streete against St Peters Church, 1607.' Such ballads as these,
before collection, were printed as broadsides, and circulated all over England.
This one is likely to have been read, perhaps sung, by Shakespeare. The men
of Kent actually did receive concessions from the Conqueror and made a stand
against him at Swanscombe Hill, on the Roman road passing from Dover to
Southwark, London.
A Prankish
*
Moving "Wood
'
'
Then the host of Fredegonde marched all through the night,
and Landris led them, directing their course into a wood. As
soon as iândris had entered within the wood he hung a bell at
K
130
the neck of his horse and took a great branch of a tree all leafy
and covered himself therewith as best he could himself and his
horse, and said to all the others that they should do the same, and
bade them all be silent as best they could and at the morning hour
they advanced upon their enemies. . . .
'
As they drew near the enemy one of those who were on guard
saw them and regarded them, as best he could for the manner in
which they were bedecked, and it seemed to him that it was a
wood. He marvelled that it should be so, and came and told it
to one of his fellows. I see near us here a wood, and yestereve
there was none there. Said he to his comrade :
"
My fine fellow,
thou hast eaten and drunken too much yestereve. Thou art
dreaming. Dost thou not remember that we ourselves yestereve
turned the horses of our train out to pasture and dost thou not
hear now the little bells that are hanging on their necks ?
"
Straight-
way while he was thus speaking the forest that he had seen dimly
appeared openly before them for it threw down the branches and
appeared in arms boldly. The scouts cried :
"
Tricked ! Tricked
!"
The host was sound asleep with the labor that it had had the day
before, and they made their way boldly among them. Those who
could flee fled, and many among them were killed and taken. So
did Fredegonde conquer in the battle.'
An Arabic
*
Moving Wood
'
Dr. Morris Jastrow,
Jr.,
called attention to the following
Arabic version of the
'
Moving Wood ' in Poet-lore for May, 1890.
It is found in a commentary by a famous Arabic writer, Neshwan
el-Himgari, to an old Arabic poem, the
'
Himyaritic Kaside.*
Neshwan flourished in the twelfth century, but in the opinion of
Dr. Jastrow, as the sources from which he drew his information go
back to the generation immediately following upon Mohammed,
this Arabic version is in all probability the oldest recorded.
*
In the days of Hassan, there lived a certain Imlik who was
appointed as vassal by Himyar over the tribes of Tasm and
AN ARABIC 'MOVING WOOD'
131
Gadis. By his cruelty, which manifested itself in diverse ways,
Imlik aroused the opposition of the Gadisites. Stirred up by the
appeals of one of the noble women in the tribe, Afira, who had
been outraged by Imlik, the Gadisites decided to make war upon
the vassal-chief, who had leagued himself with the Tasmites, but
lacking the strength and courage for open warfare, they deter-
mined, despite the vehement protest of Afira, to resort to a strata-
gem. Alaswad Ibn Afar, the brother of Afira, invited the king and
his whole people to a banquet ; and at the moment that the fes-
tivities were at their height, Alaswad and his band fell upon them
unawares. One of the Tasmites who escaped the slaughter came
to the King of Himyar, who, upon hearing of the heinous offence
against the sacred laws of hospitality, determined to exterminate
the Gadisites. Thereupon the Tasmite gives the king the follow-
ing warning :
"
O King ! know that among the Gadisites there is
a
woman, Zarka by name \_t.e. the
'
brilliant one
'],
who has the
power of seeing to a distance of three days' march, and she will
certainly warn her people when she sees the approach of thine
army." Hassan accordingly ordered each one of his soldiers to
take a branch of a tree and conceal himself behind the leaves. In
this way they advanced upon the Gadisites. When Zarka, from
her watch-tower, beheld them, she called her people together.
"What dost thou see?" the Gadisites inquired. Unable, as yet,
to distinguish more than faint outlines, she replied,
"
I see a man
in a position in which he appears to be mending his sandal or try-
ing to eat his shoulder-blade," a rather curious alternative, it
must be confessed. Again her tribe inquired of her what she saw,
and this time she answered,
"
Either Himyar is coming against
you, or the forest is moving in this direction."
"
How can the
forest wander?
"
they mockingly retorted
;
"
hast thou gone mad ?
"
and they did not believe her until Hassan and his army had come
close to them, too late to permit them even to fly for refuge. The
entire tribe perished. As for Zarka, the king, anxious to discover
the cause of her wonderful power, had her brought into his pres-
ence. She revealed the secret of her sharp vision, which consisted
132
in rubbing the
"
Ithmid-stone
"
to powder and rubbing it over her
eyes every night. Thereupon the king ordered her eyes to be
torn out, and in confirmation of her words, they found the blood-
vessels beneath the pupils entirely blackened by the powder.'
A Hawaiian 'Moving Wood'
In the story of Hina, the Hawaiian Helen, there is a curious
incident which seems to form a connecting link between the wide-
spread legends of
'
The Moving Wood ' and the wooden horse of
Troy. The outline of the story is almost identical with that of
the Greek story. Kaupeepee, however, the lover of Hina, resem-
bles in prowess the valiant Hector rather than Paris. The rek"
tives and friends of Hina go on an expedition to rescue her and
besiege Haupu, the city of Kaupeepee. The siege of Haupu
lasted for several days, and it was finally taken by the following
means : The besieging forces constructed a wall of timbers twenty
feet in length, firmly corded together and supported by braces
;
against it the missiles of the besieged fell harmless, and behind it
the besiegers worked in safety. Section by section and foot by
foot this moving line of timber was advanced. At last, in the
middle of a dark and stormy night, the final assault was made.
Noiselessly the wooden wall was advanced against the wall of
stone.
Just
at break of day they came together ; the besiegers
rushed up the braces to the top, hurled from the wall those war-
riors from within who were trying to defend themselves, poured
after them a cataract of spears against which the enemy were
powerless, the gates were opened, and soon the upper terrace was
cleared and five thousand warriors, led by Niheu (a brother of
Hina), were sweeping down to complete their work of slaughter.
SCENES FROM MIDDLETON'S 'THE WITCH'
133
Scenes from Middletons
'
The Witch
'
Act III. Scene III
A Field
Enter Hecate, Stadlin, Hoppo, and other -witches ; Firestone in the back-
ground.
Hec. The moon's a gallant ; see how brisk she rides
!
Stad. Here's a rich evening, Hecate.
Hec. Ay, is't not, wenches.
To take a journey of five thousand mile?
Hop. Ours will be more to-night.
Hec, O 'twill be precious
!
Heard you the owl yet?
Stad. Briefly in the copse,
As we came through now.
Hec. Tis high time for us then.
Steevens compares
'
Macbeth,' I. i. 1-3, with the last four lines
and with these lines :
Fire. Hark, hark, the cat sings a brave treble in her own language
!
Hec. {going up) Now I go, now I fly,
Malkin my sweet spirit and I.
He compares
*
Macbeth,' IV. i.
30,
with
Hec. Here, take this unbaptised brat;
Boil it well, preserve the fat
;
*
Macbeth,' IV. i.
65,
66,
with
Hec. . . . gristle of a man that hangs
After sunset.
Compare 'Macbeth,' IV. i. 129
with
Hec. Come my sweet sisters; let the air strike our tune.
Whilst we shew reverence to yond peeping moon.
And 'Macbeth,' I. iii. 11-26, and IV. i.
92-94,
with
Hec. . . . Can you doubt me daughter,
That can make mountains tremble, miles of woods walk,
Whole earth's foundation bellow, and the spirits
Of the entomb'd to burst out from their marbles,
Nay draw yond moon to my involv'd designs?
134
SHAKESPEARE
STUDIES:
MACBETH
'Macbeth,' II. ii.
5,
contrast with
Francisca.
. . . they're now all at rest
And Caspar there and all :

List ! fast asleepe;
He cryes it hither.
I must disease you strait, sir
:
F'or the maide-servants, and the girles o' the house,
I spic'd them lately with a drowsie
posset.
'Macbeth,' I. iii,
22, may also be compared with
Hec.
. . . His picture made in wax, and gently molten
By a blue fire kindled with dead men's eyes,
Will waste him by degrees.
The song that the spirits sing, III. v., is as follows ;
Song Above
Come away, come away,
Hecate, Hecate, come away
!
êc. I come, I come, I come, I come.
With all the speed I may,
With all the speed I may.
The other song, IV. i.
43,
is included in this passage, which is
also generally suggestive of the incantation in this act
:
Enter Stadlin, Hoppo, and other witches.

Hec. Give me Marmaritin, some bear-breech : when?
Fire. There's bear-breech, end lizard's brain, forsooth.
Hec. Into the vessel;
And fetch three ounces of the red-hair'd girl
I kill'd last midnight.
Fire. Whereabouts, sweet mother?
Hec. Hip; hip or flank. Where is the acopus?
Fire. You shall have acopus, forsooth.
Hec. Stir, stir about, whilst I begin the charm.
Black spirits and white, red spirits and grey,
Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may.
Titty, Tiffin,
Keep it stiff in
Firedrake, Puckey,
Make it lucky;
Liard, Robin,
You must bob in.
SCENES FROM THE 1674
ADAPTATION
135
Round, around, around, about, about
!
All ill come running in, all good keep out
!
First Witch. Here's the blood of a bat.
Hec. Put in that, O, put in that
!
Sec. Witch. Here's libbard's-bane.
Hec. Put in again !
First Witch. The juice of toad, the oil of adder.
Sec. Witch. Those will make the younker madder.
Hec. Put in
there's all
and rid the stench.

Fire. Nay, here's three ounces of the red-hair'd wench.
All the Witches. Round, around, around, etc.
Hec. So, so, enough : into the vessel with it.
There, 't hath the true perfection. Pm so light
At any mischief! there's no villainy
But is a tune, methinks.
Scenes from the
1674
Adaptation of
'
Macbeth
'
Compare with the original
'
Macbeth,' I. ii., the following :
Enter King, Malcom, Donalbine and Lenox with attendants meeting Sey-
ton -wounded.
King. What aged man is that? if we may guess
His message by his looks, He can relate the
Issue of the Battle
!
Male. This is the valiant Seyton,
Who like a good and hardy Souldier fought
To save my liberty. Hail, Worthy Friend,
Inform the King in what condition you
Did leave the Battle?
Seyton. It was doubtful;
As two spent swimmers, who together cling
And choak their Art : the merciless Macdonwald
(Worthy to be a Rebel, to which end
The multiplying Villanies of Nature
Swarm'd thick upon him) from the western Isles:
With Kernes and Gallow-glasses was supply'd.
Whom Fortune with her smiles oblig'd a-while;
But brave Macbeth (who well deserves that name)
Did with his frowns put all her smiles to flight
:
And Cut his passage to the Rebels person
:
Then having Conquer'd him with single force,
136
He fixt his Head upon our Batllements.
King. O valiant Cousin ! Worthy Gentleman
!
Seyton. But then this Day-break of our Victory
Serv'd but to light us into other Dangers
That spring from whence our hopes did seem to rise;
Produc'd our hazard : for no sooner had
The justice of your Cause, Sir, (arm'd with valour,)
Compell'd these nimble Kernes to trust their Heels.
But the Nonveyan Lord, (having expected
This opportunity) with new supplies
Began a fresh assault.
King. Dismaid not this our Generals, Macbeth,
And Banquo?
Seyton. Yes, as sparrows Eagles, or as hares do Lions;
As flames are heighten'd by access of fuel.
So did their valours gather strength, by having
P>esh Foes on whom to exercise their Swords
:
Whose thunder still did drown the dying groans
Of those they slew, which else had been so great,
Th' had frighted all the rest into Retreat.
My spirits faint : I would relate the wounds
Which their Swords made ;
but my own silence me.
King. So well thy wounds become thee as thy words
;
Th' are full of Honour both ; Go get him Surgeons.
\Êxit Cap. and Attendants.
Enter Macduff
But, who comes there ?
Male. Noble
Macduff!
Lenox. What haste looks through his eyes
!
Donal. So should he look who comes to speak things strange.
Macd. Long live the King
!
King. Whence com'st thou, worthy Thane ?
Macd. From
Fife,
Great King ; where the Noi-weyan banners
Dark'ned the Air
;
and fann'd our people cold
:
Norwey himself, with infinite supplies,
(Assisted by that most disloyal Thane
Of
Cawdor) long maintain'd a dismal Conflict,
Till brave Macbeth oppos'd his bloody rage.
And check'd his haughty spirit, after which
His Army fled : Thus shallow streams may flow
ADAPTATION
1
37
Forward with violence a-while; but when
They are oppos'd, as fast run back agen.
In brief, the Victory was ours.
King. Great Happiness ! etc.
Compare with the following, the original I. iii.
79-88,
and
116-151 :
[
Witches vanish.
Ha / gone / . . .
Banq. The earth has Bubbles like the water
:
And these are some of them : how soon they are vanish'd,
Macb. . . . Th'are turn'd to Air; what seem'd corporeal
Is melted into nothing ; would they had staid.
Banq. . . . Were such things here as we discours'd of now.'
Or have we tasted some infectious Herb
That captivates our Reason ?
Macb. Your Children shall be Kings.
Banq. You shall be King.
Macb. And Thane
of
Cawdor too, went it not so ?
Banq. Just
to that very tune / who's here ? etc.
Macb. Glamis and Thane
of
Cawdor !
The greatest is behind ; my noble Partner /
Do you not hope your Children shall be Kings?
When those who gave to me the Thane
of
Cawdor
Promis'd no less to them.
Banq. If all be true,
You have a Title to a Crown, as well
As to the Thane
of
Cawdor. It seems strange;
But many times to win us to our harm.
The Instruments of darkness tell us truths,
And tempt us with low trifles, that they may
Betray us in the things of high concern.
Macb. Th' have told me truth as to the name of Cawdor [âside.
That may be prologue to the name of King.
Less Titles shou'd the greater still fore-run.
The morning Star doth usher in the Sun.
This strange prediction is in as strange a manner
Deliver'd : neither can be good nor ill,
If ill; 'twou'd give no earnest of success.
Beginning in a truth : I'm Thane
of
Cawdor
;
If good? why am I then perplext with doubt?
138 SHAKESPEARE
STUDIES: MACBETH
My future bliss causes my present fears,
Fortune, methinks, which rains down Honour on me,
Seems to rain bloud too : Duncan does appear
Clowded by my increasing Glories : but
These are but dreams.
Bang. Look how my Partner's rap'd /
Macb. If Chance will have me King
;
Chance may bestow
A Crown without my stir.
Banq. His Honours are surprizes, and resemble
New Garments, which but seldom fit men well,
Unless by help of use.
Macb, Come, what come may
;
Patience and time run through the roughest day.
Banq. Worthy Macbeth ! we wait upon your leisure.
Macb. I was reflecting upon past transactions
;
Worthy
Macduff; your pains are register'd, etc.
The following extract corresponds with I. iv.
50-53
:
Stars ! hide your fires,

Let no light see my black and deep desires.
The strange Idea of a bloudy act
Does into doubt all my resolves distract.
My eyes shall at my hand connive, the Sun
Himself should wink when such a deed is done.
With I. vii. 1-28, this corresponds :
Macb. If it were well when done

;
then it were well
It were done quickly
;
if his Death might be
Without the Death of nature in myself.
And killing my own rest ; it wou'd suffice
;
But deeds of this complexion still return
To plague the doer, and destroy his peace
:
Yet let me think
;
he's here in double trust.
First, as I am his Kinsman, and his Subject,
Strong both against the Deed : then as his Host,
Who should against his murderer shut the door,
Not bear the Sword myself. Besides, this Duncan
Has born his faculties so meek, and been
So clear in his great office; that his Vertues,
Like Angels, plead against so black a deed;
Vaulting Ambition ! thou o're-leap'st thy self
To fall upon another : now, what news ?
SCENES FROM THE
1674 ADAPTATION
139
With II. i.
31-64,
and II. ii.
50-63,
compare these extracts :
Macb. Go bid your Mistress, when she is undrest,

To strike the Closet-bell, and I'll go to bed.
Is this a dagger which I see before me ?
The hilt draws towards my hand; come, let me grasp 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 brain, opprest with heat.
My eyes are made the fools of th'other senses;
Or else worth all the rest : I see thee still.
And on thy blade are stains of reeking bloud.
It is the bloudy business that thus
Informs my eyesight; now, to half the world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams infect
The health of sleep; now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Heccate's Offerings
;
now murder is
Alarm'd by his Nights Centinel : the wolf.
Whose howling seems the watch-word to the dead
:
But whilst I talk, he lives : hark, I am summon'd
;
Duncan, hear it not, for 'tis a bell
That rings my Coronation, and thy Knell.
Macb. I'll go no more
;
1 am afraid to think what I have done.
What then, with looking on it, shall I do ?
La. Macb. Give me the daggers, the sleeping and the dead
Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood
That fears a painted Devil : with his bloud
I'll stain the faces of the Grooms ; by that
It will appear their guilt. \_Exit La. Macbeth.
\^Knock within.
Macb. What knocking's that ?
How is't with me, when every noise affrights me ?
What hands are here / can the Sea afford
Water enough to wash away the stains ?
No, they would sooner add a tincture to
The Sea, and turn the green into a red.
For the disputed porter scene, II. iii,, this is the substitute :
I40
Enter Lenox and Macbeth's Servant
Lenox. You sleep soundly, that so much knocking
Could not wake you.
Serv. Labour by day causes rest by night.
The
'
Old Man ' of the fourth scene of the same act of the
original, who begins with his
'
Three score and ten I can remem-
ber well,' is changed to
'
Seyton
'
in this Adaptation, to whom is
given later in the sleep-walking scene the Physician's part also.
In his mouth old tales have no special pertinence, so the
*
Three
score and ten ' is left out. So also is the tale which Mr. Fleay
considers un-Shakespearian, and the sententious couplet put in the
Old Man's mouth with equivocal Polonius-like effect to close this
scene in which the Holinshed gossip was introduced.
A scene follows this in the Adaptation which makes Macduff
with his wife meet the witches. It has, of course, no basis at all in
Shakespeare's original ; and the next scenes to offer any profit-
able comparison of diction and taste are the Hecate scene of III.
V,
1-37,
on account of the omissions from the Adaptation of the
significant lines
30-33,
also of lines 12 and
13
of the original,
and the witch scene of Act IV. from which the symbolism of the
apparitions is shorn, the lines corresponding to IV. i. 50-126 run-
ning thus :
Macb. I conjure you by that which you profess.

How e're you come to know it answer me.
Though you let loose the raging Winds to shake whole Towns,
Though bladed Corn be lodg'd, and Trees blown down.
Though Castles tumble on their Warder's heads;
Though Palaces and towring Piramids
Are swallow'd up in Earth-quakes. Answer me.
1. Speak.
2. Pronounce.
3.
Demand.
4.
I'le answer thee.
Macb. What Destinie's appointed for my Fate ?
Hec, Thou double 77/a^ and King; beware Macduffe:
Avoiding him, Macbeth is safe enough.
Macb. What e're thou art for thy Kind Caution, Thanks.
ADAPTATION
141
Hec. Be bold and bloody, and man's hatred scorn.
Thou shall be harm'd by none of Woman born'd.
Macb. Then live
Macduffe ;
what need I fear thy power
:
But none can be too sure, thou shall not live.
That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,
And sleep in spite of Thunder,
Hec. Be Confident, be Proud, and take no care
Who wages War, or where Conspirers are,
Macbeth shall like a lucky Monarch Raign,
Till Birnam Wood Shalt come to Dunsinain,
Macb. Can Forrests move ? the Prophesie is good.
If I shall never fall till the great Wood
Of Birnan rise ; thou may'st presume Macbeth
To live out Nature's Lease, and pay thy breath
To Time and mortal Custom.
'
Yet my heart
Longs for more Knowledge : Tell me if your art
Extends so far : Shall Banqud's Issue o're
This Kingdom raign ?
All. Enquire no more.
Macb. I will not be deny'd. Ha ! [Cauldron sinks
An eternal Curse fall on you; let me know
Why sinks that Cauldron and what noise is this ?
Witch. Appear. 2. appear,
3.
appear.
Wound through his Eyes, his harden'd Heart,
Like Shaddows come, and straight depart.
A shaddow
of
eight Kings, and Banquo's Ghost after them pass by.
Macb. Thy Crown offends my sight. A second too like the first.
A third resembles him : a fourth too like the former
:
Ye filthy Hags, will they Succeed
Each other still till Dooms-day ?
Another yet; a seventh ? I'll see no more:
And yet the eighth appears.
Ha ! the bloody Banqiio smiles upon me,
And by his smiling on me, seems to say
That they are all Successors of his race.
Hec. Ay, Sir, all this is so : etc.
Instead of the eloquent silence in which Lady Macbeth is
wrapped about at the close of Shakespeare's play, before and
after the sleep-walking scene, the spoil-all scene, quoted below,
142
1
appears
;
and from the Adaptation, too, are missing both the cau-
tion of the Physician that all cause of harming herself be removed,
and the announcement that by
'
self and violent hands ' she found
relief, as the Queen Jokasta of Sophokles did after a similar silence.
The insensibiUty of Macbeth is also altered by this scene :
Macb, Seaton, go bid the Army March.

Seat. The posture of affairs requires your Presence.
Macb, But the Indosposition of my Wife
Detains me here.
Seat. Th' Enemy is upon our borders, Scotland's in danger.
Macb. So is my Wife, and I am doubly so,
I am sick in her, and my Kingdom too. Seaton.
Seat. Sir.
Macb. The Spur of my Ambition prompts me to go
And make my Kingdom safe, but Love which softens me
To pity her in her distress, curbs my Resolves.
Seat. He's strangely disorder'd.
Macb, Yet why should Love since confin'd, desire
To controul Ambition, for whose spreading hopes
The world's too narrow. It shall not; Great Fires
Put out the Less; Seaton go bid my Grooms
Make ready; lie not delay my going.
Seat. I go.
Macb. Stay, Seaton, stay. Compassion calls me back.
Seat. He looks and moves disorderly.
Macb. I'le not go yet.
Enter a Servant who whispers Macbeth
Seat. Well, Sir.
Macb. Is the Queen asleep ?
Seat, What makes 'em whisper and his countenance change ?
Perhaps some new design has had ill success.
Macb, Seaton, Go see what posture our affairs are in.
Seat, I shall, and give you notice Sir. [Exit Seat
Enter Lady Macbeth
Macb. How does my Gentle Love ?
Lady Mb. Duncan is dead.
Macb, No words of that.
Lady Mb. And yet to Me he Lives.
SLEEP IN THE ELIZABETHAN POETS
143
Macb.
His fatal Ghost is now my Shadow, and pursues me
Where e're T go.
It cannot be My Dear,
Your Fears have misinform'd your eyes.
See there; believe your own.
Why do you follow Me ? I did not do it.
Methinks there's nething.
If you have Valour force him hence.
Hold, hold he's gone. Now you look strangely.
Tis the strange error of your Eyes.
But the Strange error of my Eyes
Proceeds from the strange Action of your Hands.
Distraction does by fits possess my head,
Because a Crown unjustly covers it.
I stand so high that I am giddy grown.
A Mist does cover me, as Clouds the top
Of Hills. Let us get down apace.
If by your high ascent you giddy grow,
Tis when you cast your Eyes on things below.
You may in Peace resign the ill gain'd Crown.
Why should you labour still to be unjust ?
There has been too much Blood already spilt.
Make not the Subjects Victims to your guilt.
Can you think that a crime, which you did once
Provoke me to commit, had not your breath
Blown my ambition up into a Flame
Duncan had yet been living.
Sleep in the Elizabethan Poets
Come, Sleepe ! O Sleepe, the certaine knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balme of woe.
The poore man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;
With shield of proofe shield me from out the prease
Of those fierce darts Dispaire at me doth throw;
O make in me these civill warres to cease;
I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.
Take thou of me smooth pillowes, sweetest bed,
A chamber deafe of noise and blind of light,
A rosie garland and a wearie hed
:
144
And if these things as being thine by right,
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me, <
LiveUer than else-where Stella's image see. I
Philip Sidney,
'
Astrophel and Stella," xxxix. 1581-1591.1
Care-charmer sleepe, sonne of the sable night,
Brother to death, in silent darknes borne
:
Relieve my languish and restore the light.
With darke forgetting of my care returne.
And let the day be time enough to mourne
The shipwracke of my ill-adventured youth :
Let waking eyes suffice to waile their scorne,
Without the torment of the night's untruth.
Cease dreams, th' Images of day-desires,
To modell forth the passions of the morrow
:
Never let rising Sunne approve you liars
To adde more griefe to aggravate my sorrow;
Still let me sleepe, imbracing clouds in vaine.
And never wake to feele the daye's disdaine.
Samuel Daniel,
'
Delia,' liv.
1594.
Care-charmer sleepe ! Sweet ease in restless misery
!
The captive's liberty, and his freedom's song
!
Balme of the bruised heart ! Man's chief felicity
!
Brother of quiet death, when life is too too long
!
A comedy it is, and now an history;
What is not sleepe unto the feeble mind
!
It easeth him that toils and him that's sorry;
It makes the deafe to hear, to see the blind;
Ungentle sleepe, thou helpest all but me
!
For when I sleepe my soul is vexed most.
It is Fidessa that doth master thee;
If she
approache, alas, thy power is lost
!
But here she is ! See how he runs amain
!
I fear at night he will not come again.
Bartholomew
Griffin, 'To Fidessa," xv.
1596.
(J-
9
96
^
)/IAY2
0J98ff
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ESPEARE STUDIES

there follows an entire Section devoted to extracts

Macbeth's 'Day of Success.'

Are there any surprises in

that is, is any event so sudden that the idea of it

the 'desert place,' the

is at once significant of the

the hero of the drama

is thus both foreshad-

namely the announcement to Macbeth of his accession to the

the king's arrival, the banqueting

Fitness of Time and Place.

From Banquo's remarks to Fleance at the opening

or that they had

Taking a Bond of Fate.

Act V. brings home to Macbeth and his

to conquer his soul ?

that to such sorrows

that his deliverance from his heart sickness cannot be won by

Malcolm, Macduff, and the English army. How does it

those of the Sergeant, the

are any of them painted in higher relief than is

Show how the characters presented before Mac-

It is evident upon the first appearance of Banquo

Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos,

witches, fairies, spirits, etc. are regularly trochaic.

these mere announcers

should have succeeded so well with Macbeth without

a man of big words, who likes to roll round his

which do you think it likely Shakespeare really wrote,

' Fortune on his

and made it pitch the key for the

'thatshalt be king hereafter.' He proved

relating how the

likely to have been peculiarly fascinating and fruitful

that Macbeth will play

is not hardened for the working-day world, but is

first, although the banquet was to commence at seven,

suggestive of his being some

will account for many weaknesses in

the witches. Furthermore, the growing power of

men and women

are nearly all in all

the revelation of destiny ; the

the malignant mockery of destiny. 'Oracles are ful-

What are these, so withered

With skill, heede, and judgment, this worke must be read.

Before, behind, and on each side,

Then said the dreadfuU Conquerour

And in no place in England else

Enter Stadlin, Hoppo, and other witches.

and rid the stench.

Stars ! hide your fires,

Macb. If it were well when done

Macb. Go bid your Mistress, when she is undrest,

Macb. I conjure you by that which you profess.

Macb, Seaton, go bid the Army March.

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