his ill-gotten crown with glory, to expiate or extenuate his crime by sovereign virtues. We could then be made to see that it by no means follows that evil must breed evil, and that Macbeth must wade on in blood in order not to fall. But from the very first meeting with the witches Macbeth appears like one possessed of all the devils of Hell, and rushes so like a madman from one crime to another, that the nobler impulses of former days never for one moment influence him. Here too, as frequently elsewhere, Shakespeare exaggerates the contrast, and the effect, at the expense of psychological truth; for, to completely subvert the fundamental basis of a character assuredly partakes, always and everywhere, of the nature of untruth. Without the idea of consistency we can conceive of no developement either in nature or

man. . .

...

And yet all such criticisms cannot keep us from pronouncing Shakespeare's Macbeth the mightiest and most powerful of all tragedies.

PETRI.

MORITZ PETRI, Pastor (Zur Einführung Shakespeare's in die christliche Familie. Eine Gabe zunächst für Frauen und Jungfrauen, p. 38. Hanover, 1868). No poet possesses such a profound knowledge of the dark side of human life, and none has laid bare its depths to us so strikingly, as Shakespeare. He knows how the stealthy tempter invades the heart, by what struggles he enters in, by what path alone lies salvation, and what inward and outward wretchedness he who knows not how to find this path must endure until he perishes under the sorrows of life; and all the most celebrated and greatest of Shakespeare's dramas bear the inscription in clear characters, the wages of sin is death.' . . . But in order not to miss the key to the tragedy of Macbeth, we must, first of all, acknowledge that there is outside the world of man a realm of demons whose dark, secret powers seek to gain an influence over human souls, and do gain it, except so far as they are opposed; and thus it happens that this Satanic band is known and sought after by man, or is unknown and undesired, and its influence is only bewailed without the sufferer's having the strength to withstand its power.

This definite conception and recognition of a spiritual realm, whose influence over human souls is full of malignity, woe and terror, is to be found in all periods of human history, and in all stages of civilization. Evident traces of it have been discovered among the ancient Egyptians at the time of the Pharaohs. It runs through the system of Hindoo philosophy, again emerges in the world of antiquity, and is to be discerned throughout all Germanic heathendom, and reappears in the Australian and American races. It would be passing strange if this primitive and universal belief in the existence, and in the secret influence, of an evil, spiritual world were a mere fancy, as modern times would fain have us believe.

In a word, Shakespeare is penetrated with the truth, of which we have proofs over and over again in the Bible, that there is a secret world of evil spirits that with Satanic cunning lie in wait for human souls, conquering the unguarded heart and rejoicing in hurling their victim to the dust in the misery of sin. Under this weight of demoniac influences lies Macbeth when the drama opens, however much he may struggle against it. . . .

There are two points which Shakespeare especially emphasizes for us in the character of Macbeth. Before the deed we mark the insidious approach of the tempter,

and the terrible conflict with the powers of darkness, and then after the deed the strength of an evil, unappeased conscience, which in the struggle to assure and to protect itself, advances from one ill deed to another until the edifice of bloody crimes topples headlong with a crash. If we follow up these two phases of the drama, we clearly enough perceive that Macbeth had for a long time fostered his ambition with the thought of his possible possession of the throne, although the bloody path to it may have seemed to him far distant. Moreover, a heavy dream* of the murder of the king had lately caused him much anxiety.

In the first scene of the last act Shakespeare shows us how heavy is the weight of an unexpiated crime, and what a failure follows every human soul who enters into an alliance with the powers of darkness. Lady Macbeth seemed to be so steeled against all assaults of an evil conscience, and seemed to wield so complete a power over herself and her bad actions, that she might have bid defiance to all Hell. But over against all her attempts of a proportionate power in evil-doing stands the saying of the Apostle in its full force: Be not deceived; God is not mocked.'

v. FRIESEN.

H. FREIHERR V. FRIESEN (Jahrbuch der deutschen Shakespeare-Gesellschaft, p. 224, 1869). Whether, as Mrs Siddons thought, Lady Macbeth, according to her Celtic nature, is to be conceived of as a blonde, or, as others have been inclined to think, as slender and graceful, appears to me of little importance; I have repeatedly found that when the part is well performed, one is indifferent to much in the personal appearance of the performer. Only I cannot imagine either Macbeth or Lady Macbeth as at all advanced in age. That he himself has not yet entered upon full manhood is evident from many particulars in his rôle. But, above all things, I consider the wonderful interest, which the whole man inspires, not at all in accordance with a ripe age, although there is nothing less likely than the idea that he was a youth. But if Macbeth stands, as I suppose, at that period of life when the sudden outbreak of the most violent and dangerous passions is most probable, then Lady Macbeth may be naturally regarded as having not yet reached the position of a matron; and I am confident that the earlier custom of playing this part rather in the style of a lady in the meridian of life has contributed not a little to establish the too hard opinion, in comparison with which the representation of Lady Macbeth in a more youthful and fiery manner is much more advantageous to the effect of the whole drama. . . .

In order to be still more fully convinced how senseless the plot to murder the king was, we must bear in mind that from the moment when Duncan named his oldest son, Malcolm, Prince of Cumberland, Macbeth was greatly embittered, as that was an obstacle between him and his aim. Why does he not think, when in consultation with Lady Macbeth, that he cannot reckon unconditionally upon becoming king at Duncan's death? Schiller appears to have perceived the difficulty, for when Lady Macbeth swears that she could kill her suckling, he inserts fifteen lines, in the first five of which he makes Macbeth bring forward this obstacle, and then

* Our excellent Pastor is here misled by Tieck's translation, who renders 'My thought whose murder yet is but fantastical' by 'Mein traum, dess Mord nur noch ein Hirngespinst.' ED.

Lady Macbeth, referring to the unwillingness of the proud Thanes to be subject to a weak boy,' presents a picture of the future, in which Macbeth must be king. I do not for a moment doubt that Shakespeare conceived of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth as so drunk with passion that neither was capable of appreciating this obstacle. Certainly the whole picture of their mental state is impaired by ascribing to them any additional degree of circumspection. Indeed, I am disposed to believe that this interpolation of Schiller's, as it was manifestly suggested by a misunderstanding of the whole situation, and especially of the character of Lady Macbeth, has actually perpetuated the prevailing misconception of this point.

But perhaps my idea is a groundless one that both Macbeth and Lady Macbeth were thus bereft of all self-possession, and of course that their plot was thoughtlessly devised? Or was it not heedless to rashness in Lady Macbeth, as we learn from her own words, to steal through the chambers of the castle to place the daggers of the grooms for her husband, to look at the sleeping king, and at a moment too when there were persons still awake in the castle? for so it must have been, as Banquo still kept watch, conversing with Macbeth. Is this the way in which a woman of a deliberate, circumspect character would act? Mrs Jameson has portrayed the character of Lady Macbeth with exhaustive power, but I am free to confess that I cannot agree with her in giving Lady Macbeth credit for an uncommon degree of intelligence. I see rather in this rashness only a passionate power in executing a fixed purpose, which, as is shown in numberless cases, sometimes lends to women, corporeally weak as they are, an heroic indifference to danger, because the self-possession to meet danger is wholly denied them. It is here still further to be considered that the execution of the murderous plot is compressed into the briefest space of time. If Macduff had knocked a few minutes earlier at the gate of the castle, either the accomplishment of the murder would have been impossible, or the pair would have been discovered as the murderers. How imprudent, finally, was the concerted signal with the bell! It seems as if the poet aimed especially to direct our attention to that, since he puts in the mouth of Macbeth the words, Hear it not, Duncan, for it is the knell That summons thee to heaven or to hell.'

As has been intimated above, the confession of Lady Macbeth that she could not murder the king with her own hand because in his sleep he resembled her father, is, according to my idea of her, a proof that the strength of will on which she relied in her first conversation with her husband was by no means so entirely at her disposal as she imagined. She enters trembling, convulsed with the most terrible anguish ; she starts at every noise, and even her first words, 'That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold: What hath quenched them hath given me fire,' are not justified by her behavior. I am convinced that this expression has no other aim than to let us know that she is not what she imagines herself to be. Why, otherwise, is she immediately afterwards startled at the cry of the owl? . . .

At the beginning of the scene she is so deeply sunk in thought that she is scarcely able to utter a welcome to the guests, and when, during Macbeth's agitation and the surprise of the guests, she again finds her speech, I can discover in what she says nothing more than a wild agony that catches at the most incredible stories in order to anticipate the dreaded interpretation of Macbeth's behavior. And then, when she descends to her husband, her words may appear at first sight hard and upbraiding, but they admit of being uttered in no tone of passionate reproach. Rather must the heavy agony which she is suffering everywhere break through. Had she

been of a cautious, cold-blooded temper, she certainly would not have recalled the most frightful particulars of the past in the words, This is the very painting of your fear: This is the air-drawn dagger, which you said Led you to Duncan.' At this moment she could not easily have said anything more abhorrent, and these words she utters almost involuntarily because that night hovers constantly before her memory. Had she really been resolved to lord it over her husband, why is she silent the moment that she is alone with him?

...

But this is certain, that Shakespeare in the part of Lady Macbeth, as in all his parts, actually relied upon the young actor to whom the part might be assigned to carry out and complete the representation; and therefore at the present day it becomes the special duty of the actress in this part not in tone, look, or gesture to aggravate the abhorrence which might thus be excited, but to alleviate it, so that to intelligent spectators will be presented not the picture of a Northern Fury, nor of a monster, still less of a heroine or martyr to conjugal love, but that of a woman capable of the greatest elevation, but seized mysteriously by the magic of Passion, only to fall the more terribly, and thus, in spite of our horror at her crime, wringing from us our deepest sympathy.

(Das Buch: Shakspere von Gervinus. Ein Wort über dasselbe, p. 80. Leipzig, 1869.) It is this belief in a freedom of will, a freedom as enduring as life (far removed from a gloomy scheme of predestination), which in Shakespeare's dramas forms the elements of poesie. Everything like caprice in the arrangement of his incidents is avoided by Shakespeare. He takes the greatest pains to provide, unabridged up to the last moment, a certain freedom of will for all his characters, who, while following the path of their tragic fate, are doomed to destruction. None of his tragic heroes are so entangled, up to their last minute, by fate, accident or intrigue, that no salvation remains to them. Even in those very dramas where he deals the freest with Destiny, or where he purposely weaves a net of intrigue, there always remains a gleam of salvation up to the last moment before utter darkness of soul makes sure the tragic end. This is most noteworthy in Macbeth. The completion of the fearful crime hangs in abeyance up to that last instant when Macbeth is alarmed by some noise, and rushes forth again, in doubt, from Duncan's chamber; and even when he and Lady Macbeth are plunging into the fearful abyss of crime the light of grace and mercy ceases not to shine. It would be superfluous here to seek for theoretical proofs of this, for without such an antecedent all that terrible struggle between bitter defiance and longings for repentance, which so wrings our soul in the subsequent scenes, would be meaningless or at least un-tragic.

GERICKE.

In the Jahrbuch der Deutschen Shakespeare-Gesellschaft for 1870, vol. vi, p. 1982, Mr Gericke has a long essay, in which he states the fact that while Macbeth is undoubtedly one of the grandest and most attractive of Shakespeare's tragedies for the closet, yet for the stage it is one of the least popular, and has never had a successful run at any German theatre (except at Meiningen under Bodenstedt's supervision), and he endeavors to explain this lack of popular appreciation by the defects of the mise en scène, by the rapid movement of the number of short scenes (which he suggests should be smoothed over by the aid of music), and by the neglect on the

part of stage-managers to attend, with the utmost artistic nicety, to the decorations. Many of Mr Gericke's suggestions are ingenious, but are hardly appropriate in a volume designed for a public with whom this tragedy has always been, on the stage, one of the most popular of Shakespeare's dramas. All of Mr Gericke's remarks which tend to elucidate the æsthetic meaning of the text will be found at their appropriate places. His stage directions at the beginning of Act II are hardly more than a modification of Capell's.

LEO.

F. A. LEO (Macbeth, übersetzt, eingeleitet und erläutert. Shakespeare's Werke, herausgegeben durch die Deutsche Shakespeare-Gesellschaft, vol. xii, p. 174. Berlin, 1871). We exhaust all the sensational epithets at our command in painting in bright colors the terrible, tigerish nature of Lady Macbeth. She has been styled the intellectual originator of the murder; the evil spirit goading her husband to the crimeand, after all, 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, and after the first step in crime, sinks under the burden of guilt heaped upon her soul.

...

She is a proud, a loving wife, absorbed in her husband's life and pursuits, eager to sacrifice herself utterly for the furtherance of his ambition and for the increase of his greatness. And it is clear from her apostrophe, Come, ye spirits,' &c., that she acts in entire consciousness that the path over which she is about to stagger at her husband's side will lead her farther and farther astray from the peaceful pastures of a pure conscience. . . .

...

If I have succeeded in portraying Lady Macbeth such as I imagine her, she will be seen to be a passionate, great-hearted, heroic woman, a victim to her own affection; and that affection squandered upon an ambitious, vacillating and bloodthirsty man. How much inferior is his love to hers is evident from his cruel words, 'She should have died hereafter!'

But he lives and rages on, like a Berserker of old, destroying in his tyrannous hate whatsoever stands in his path. In view of all the circumstances, the conclusion to which we come may be expressed, in my opinion, in the following, perhaps rather commonplace summary: Macbeth's is a nature predestined to murder, not needing the influence of his wife to direct him to the path of crime, along which at first she leads him. The wife, on the other hand, at the side of a noble, honourable husband always faithful to the right, would have been a pure and innocent woman, diffusing happiness around her domestic circle, in spite of some asperities in her temper.

CHASLES.

PHILARÈTE CHASLES (Études sur W. Shakespeare, &c., p. 219. Paris, 1851). One admirable trait in Shakespeare is that, while scarcely permitting us to perceive the supernatural beings which he introduces into his plays, he never employs them as pas