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Cornell University Library 
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 Shakespeare's tragedies. 
 
 3 1924 013 158 294 
 
The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013158294 
 
1756 j 
 
 Shakespeare's ' Tragedies, 
 
 d; j. snider. 
 
SHAKESPEARE'S TRAGEDIES. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 This play shows in many ways that it belongs to the 
 youthful productions of Shakespeare. Its theme is the 
 passion of youth ; it has the wild freedom and intensity 
 of youth. There is a lack of that severity of treat- 
 ment which belongs to the later works of the Poet ; 
 there are parts which seem very loosely connected with 
 the fundamental thought, and then again there are other 
 parts developed at length which appear quite unneces- 
 sary to the action. There is often a sensuous fullness 
 of delineation, and often an abstract brevity; there are 
 found the finest and purest bursts of poetry intermingled 
 with frigid conceits and far-fetched antitheses. Every- 
 where in the drama can be noticed an inequality — an 
 inequality in thought, in language, in the structure of 
 the plot. Still, beneath all this play of caprice and ir- 
 regularity there is felt to be a deep, pervading harmony 
 throughout the entire work. The inequality seems to 
 be the inequality of the subject — the inequality of youth 
 with its fitful, tempestuous passion. It has been well 
 named the tragedy of love, love in all its conflicts, love 
 in all its extravagance and volcanic tossings, love des- 
 pised and love triumphant. It portrays this passion 
 boiling over with a fervor which sweeps down all tradi- 
 tional barriers, even the most deadly enmity, and which 
 is ready to struggle with death itself. The theme is 
 therefore love, unconquerable, irresistible, of which the 
 individual is the merest instrument, ready to be sacri- 
 ficed without the least hesitation. Such is the feeling 
 
i Shakespeare s Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 which warms this poem in every part: youthful love in 
 its grandest intensity, for it is just the intensity which 
 characterizes the love of Romeo and Juliet above all 
 other loves, and which prefers death to permanent sep- 
 aration. 
 
 It will now be our object to point out the harmoni- 
 ous structure which underlies the drama and gives it a 
 general consistency of thought, but above all imparts 
 to it that profound concord so readily felt, but not al- 
 ways easily explained. Whether the Poet had in mind, 
 when he wrote the play, just the method here unfolded, 
 or was wholly unconscious in his procedure, is a question 
 which can not now be discussed; but whatever answer 
 be given, it cannot affect the validity or the necessity of 
 the explanation. Shakespeare is at least a phenomenon 
 whose law is the subject of rational investigation, just 
 as the phenomena of Nature must be explained and re- 
 duced to laws, whether Nature be conscious of her own 
 laws or not. 
 
 Taking the play as it stands, there are three essential 
 divisions of its action, three grand movements which 
 combine to form the whole. The first culminates in 
 the union of Romeo and Juliet, and portrays the ob- 
 stacles and events antecedent to that union; it exhibits 
 the transition from the unrequited to the requited love 
 of the hero. The second begins with the separation of 
 the lovers caused by the banishment of Romeo, and 
 ends in their death at the tomb of the Capulets ; it de- 
 picts the attempts at reunion of the unhappy pair, which, 
 however, do not succeed but bring upon them destruc- 
 tion. The third and shortest division is the reconcilia- 
 tion of the two hostile houses of Montague and Capu- 
 let, after their childrenMiave perished. The relation in 
 
S/ukespeares Romeo and Juliet. 3 
 
 which this last division stands to the rest of the play 
 and to tragedv in general will be considered in the lat- 
 ter part of the essay. 
 
 Such are the general divisions of the entire work, but 
 through the whole action there run a certain number ot 
 threads or groups which must be carefully distinguished. 
 The first of these groups is the Prince with his attend- 
 ants, representing the State, which stands above all the 
 other elements and enforces their obedience to its com- 
 mands. Its efforts are directed to keeping peace be- 
 tween the two hostile families, to securing, bv its power, 
 an external harmony and order, still the enmity is so 
 intense that upon slight provocation it boils over and 
 bears down all authority. This thread is the least pro- 
 minent one in the play, the Prince appears but three 
 times, and each time to quell a disturbance. The sec- 
 ond thread is the two houses, the Montagues and Cap- 
 ulets with their respective adherents, both of which 
 have one common trait — mutual hatred. The hostility 
 between them is so intense that it not only assails the 
 higher authority of the State, as above mentioned, but 
 that through it the Family turns against itself and assails 
 its own existence, and, indeed, finally destroys itself in 
 its children. Thus there is portrayed a double collision, 
 the Family against itself and against the State. This 
 thread is the disturbing principle ot the play, it dis- 
 turbs public order and Jdomestic peace ; its function, 
 therefore, can be best shown in connection with the 
 other threads, and hence it will not be separately devel- 
 oped. The third thread, however, is the most import- 
 ant one of the plav, is in tact the play itself. It turns, 
 not upon family hatred, but upon the opposite passion, 
 love, which constitutes the basis ot the Family. Its 
 
4 Shakespeare s Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 bearers are Romeo and Juliet, a Montague and a Capu- 
 let, whose union thus falls athwart the enmity of their 
 houses, and is sought in vain to be reconciled with the 
 same by Friar Lawrence, the grand mediator of the 
 drama. But love too is the source of manifold colli- 
 sions which the Poet has taken the pains to fully por- 
 tray. First comes the unrequited love of Romeo, in 
 which the conflict is wholly subjective, in which the in- 
 dividual is struggling with his own passion. Then fol- 
 lows his requited love, which, however, has to endure 
 a double collision, with the will of the parent on the one 
 hand and with the suit of his rival Paris on the other. 
 With this naked statement of the elements of the play, 
 which is intended only as a sort of analytical table of 
 contents to aid the reader in grasping the whole, we 
 shall now proceed to a concrete development of the 
 thought of the drama. 
 
 The action begins with a tumult, and its suppression 
 by force. The very first scene depicts the extent and 
 the intensity of the hatred between the two houses ; it 
 reaches down to their servants, who are ready for a fight 
 whenever they meet, and involves the relatives of both 
 families together with their respective adherents in the 
 city. Order is. trampled under foot, a violent struggle 
 ensues in the streets, till the Prince as the head of the 
 State has to appear for the purpose of vindicating author- 
 ity and restoring peace. We are also told that these 
 brawls have repeatedly taken place. Thus it is shown 
 that the conflict between the hostile families is so violent 
 and wide spread that it assails the State, and threatens 
 the existence of public security. Such is the background 
 upon which the chief action of the play is to be por- 
 trayed. 
 
Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. 5 
 
 In this world of strife and contradiction Romeo now 
 appears, manifesting the full intensity of love. He 
 shuns society, seeks the covert of the wood, avoids day- 
 light, desires not even to be seen. His passion is so 
 strong that he cannot control himself, he sighs and 
 weeps, he goes out of the way of everybody in order 
 not to expose his state of mind and to give full verit to 
 his fancy and emotions. His absorption is complete, 
 he is so swallowed up in one individual that he cuts 
 himself off from all other relations in life, from father, 
 mother, relatives and friends. Thus the intensitv of 
 his love is the key-note of his character, and it is this 
 intensity which will bring forth all the tragic conse- 
 quences of the drama. 
 
 But his love is unrequited, he loves and is not loved 
 in return. Here we reach the cause of his strange de- 
 meanor and the source of all his affliction. Thus there 
 has arisen a struggle within his own bosom which he can 
 not allay. He gives expression to his conflicting emo- 
 tions in language so strongly antithetic and contra- 
 dictory that it often seems unnatural and frigid, yet it is 
 only a highly-wrought picture of his own internal con- 
 dition. His utterances are the very embodiment of 
 contradiction : 
 
 Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health ! 
 
 Such extravagance belongs to youth and love, though 
 it, perhaps, begins to get outside of the domain of the 
 Beautiful. Romeo's mind is in a state of contradiction, 
 his language is in the same state. The sympathetic 
 Benvolio tries to soothe him, and advises him to 
 change, to examine other beauties. But the passionate 
 lover scouts at the suggestion, he can not be taught to 
 forget. We should take note of this declaration for it 
 
6 Shakespeare s Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 is sometimes asserted by critics that his first love was 
 not genuine. The collision so far is purely subjective, 
 in the breast of the individual; but to produce a dra- 
 matic action, there must be a struggle with an external 
 power, which the poet now prepares to introduce. 
 
 Hence we must pass to the love which is requited 
 and thus collides with the will of the family. Romeo, in 
 company with the friends among whom is the gay 
 scoffer, Mercutio, goes to a masquerade at the dwell- 
 ing of Capulet, the mortal enemy of his house, evi- 
 dently for the purpose of beholding the fair Rosaline. 
 While there he sees Juliet, and at once transfers to her 
 all his passion. Indeed its intensity is so great that he 
 for the moment questions his former affection. This 
 passage has been often construed as if Shakespeare meant 
 to assert that Romeo's first love was only a fanciful de- 
 lusion. How utterly aimless, how ridiculous must this 
 whole first act then become ! The poet would thus be 
 simply undoing all his work. These words of Romeo 
 are only the exaggerated expression of his present im- 
 pulse. He passes to Juliet and talks with her, the lan- 
 guage between them, though full of dark and far-fetched 
 metaphor, is plain enough when supplemented with 
 the look and the kiss. If he could not endure the pre- 
 vious struggle, what must become of him now ? Juliet 
 is also caught, her fervor seems equally great, both have 
 loved at first sight. Through all this volcanic might of 
 passion, the tragic end is peering, for separation now 
 means death. 
 
 Thus Romeo has changed, notwithstanding his pro- 
 testations to Benvolio. This transition is the central 
 point of the whole first movement of the play, and, in- 
 deed, gives the true motive for the tragic termination 
 
Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. J 
 
 of the action. But it has been so generally misunder- 
 stood, according to my judgment of the drama, that the 
 grounds for it require a full statement. It is declared 
 that this sudden change from one individual to another 
 is unnatural, and is, moreover, a great blemish in the 
 work. The apparent lack of fidelity is said to give 
 offence to our ethical feelings, and to destroy our res- 
 pect for the hero. Also Romeo seems now the most 
 inconstant of lovers, but afterwards is faithful to death; 
 which fact looks like an inconsistency in the character 
 and an unsolved contradiction in the play. The defen- 
 ders of the poet have injured him more deeply than his 
 assailants ; they have defended his work by destroying 
 it. The first love of Romeo, so fully detailed by the au- 
 thor is pronounced to be no love, a mere caprice. But 
 a careful view of the circumstances will show that this 
 change is not only psychologically justifiable, but is the 
 only adequate motive for the death of the lovers, that 
 is, for the tragedy itself. 
 
 Romeo is consumed with the most ardent passion ; 
 its intensity is its great characteristic ; he has given 
 himself away, has made a complete sacrifice of his in- 
 dividuality, but there is no return for his devotion. 
 This is the motive upon which the Poet has laid the 
 chief stress, the first love of Romeo was not recipro- 
 cated. The necessity of a corresponding passion is felt 
 by everybody, though its logical basis is not usually 
 thought of. Love is the surrender of the individual to 
 one of the opposite sex through the feelings, each must 
 find his or her emotional existence in the loved person ; 
 each must be only through the other. This mutual 
 sacrifice of self on the part of both constitutes the 
 unity and harmony of love. For when individuality 
 
8 Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 thus offers itself upon the altar of affection, that same 
 individuality, to be consistent with its own principle, 
 must demand a like sacrifice from the second person, 
 otherwise it is in utter contradiction with itself. A new 
 individual must enter the bosom and take the place of 
 that self which has been immolated. 
 
 But let one side be wanting, the reciprocity is de- 
 stroyed, there is the sacrifice without the compensation, 
 the lover loses for a time at least his own individuality, 
 as far as his emotion is concerned, without gaining an- 
 other. Hence he is harrassed with an internal struggle 
 more or less severe according to the intensity of the 
 passion. How much of the literature of the world is 
 based upon unrequited love, the reader can form his 
 own estimate; but it may be said to be the first, most 
 natural, and most prevalent of all the collisions which 
 spring from the tender passion. In such a struggle a 
 restoration can be brought about by the healing influ- 
 ence of time. But the sacrifice may be so complete and 
 the passion so intense that recovery is extremely diffi- 
 cult by this means, nay, impossible; then there is only 
 one other way : change the object, find some new indi- 
 vidual who will make the sacrifice. It is a matter of 
 not uncommon experience that rejected lovers make 
 these sudden transfers of affection, not from spite, how- 
 ever, as is often supposed, but from a real necessity. 
 
 Such is the conflict in Romeo's bosom, and such is 
 its solution The fervor of his love does not permit 
 him to recover himself, he, indeed, must change in order 
 to get repose and harmonize the struggle. It is, there- 
 fore, not fickleness, but rather the permanence and 
 strength of his passion which causes its transference to 
 Juliet. This change is hence grounded in the fact that 
 
Shakespeare 's Romeo and Juliet. 9 
 
 his love is unrequited, and yet so intense that it must 
 have an object, a corresponding sacrifice. He can not 
 retrace his steps, he is just seeking that which comes 
 across his way in the form of Juliet, for Rosaline can 
 not now have any reality for him. The relief is instan- 
 taneous, he recovers himself at a bound, the merry 
 mocker Mercutio can not now drive him off by bitter 
 jests, but is beaten at his own game and compelled to 
 exclaim : " Now art thou sociable, now art thou Ro- 
 meo, etc." 
 
 For Juliet the motives are quite different, she has no 
 case of unrequited affection on her hands, hence, the 
 question may be asked, Why then does she too so easily 
 fall in love ? Juliet is in the full bloom of youth, 
 ready for the sacrifice, yet without its experience. Now 
 Romeo approaches her in the hot glow of his love, and 
 with his sly words and eyes darting flames from beneath 
 his mask, he infuses into her soul all the strength of his 
 passion. Nor is this anything unusual or unnatural, 
 • for man and woman belong together and must come to- 
 gether, unless there is a good reason for their remaining 
 asunder. No such reason exists in the case of Juliet ; 
 she is taken by the first manifestation of love ; Romeo 
 gives a hint: " they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to 
 despair;" a kiss seals their union. Thus her love is 
 motived by that of Romeo, and the intensity and com- 
 pleteness of his sacrifice call for and demand an equal 
 intensity and completeness in her devotion. Her pos- 
 sible tragic fate also peers through at this point. 
 
 The intensity now reached by Romeo and Juliet is 
 kept up by both throughout the play, and constitutes 
 its great distinguishing feature. For the love of man 
 and woman has here attained such a potence that neither 
 
io ■ Shakespeare s Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 can exist with the other. In the vast majority of man- 
 kind perhaps it never reaches quite so high a degree, it 
 stops this side of death. The first act concludes with 
 the excitation of their mutual love. The next step is 
 the mutual acknowledgment, so that their union rises 
 out of mere> emotion into conscious purpose. This 
 declaration to each other gives the famous balcony 
 scene, one of those everlasting reprints of the human 
 heart. The theme is the sacrifice of the sexual indi- 
 vidual, which results in the formation of a higher unity, 
 the Family- Previously, this unity was only felt, now 
 both declare it to be their most exalted principle for- 
 ever; The activities of the mind, particularly the im- 
 agination, which makes symbols and the understanding 
 which graps relations are intensified into a whirlwind of 
 energy by their passion. In the scenes of their meet- 
 ing all external nature around them is seized upon and 
 made the bearer of their emotions: sun,, moon, stars, 
 birds, the lark and nightingale, are turned into the min- 
 isters of their love. The play of mental activity is as 
 great as that of passionj and relieves the directness and 
 blunt expression of the latter. These conceits, these 
 images^, though not always in good taste, are in general 
 psychologically true/ the characterization can not do 
 without them,' for they exhibit the strength of the emo- 
 tion of the lovers. Their, intense feeling seeks the 
 world to find means for utterance, their minds hunt up 
 the most recondite relations between objects, all exter- 
 nality seems there only to express love. The hatred of 
 their families is burnt up in a consuming fire, both are 
 ready to disown their names,, if these furnish any ob- 
 stacle to their union. Still they feel that a new and ter- 
 rible collision 1 has arisen which they now have to face^ 
 
►■ Shakespeare s Romeo and Juliet. 1 1 
 
 a collision with the ancient prejudice and hostility of 
 their families. 
 
 But their union is not yet complete, it must be car- 
 ned out to its full realization in marriage. This the 
 deep and earnest nature of Juliet has already de- 
 manded: — - 
 
 If that thy bent of love be honorable 
 Thy purpose marriage — 
 
 It is no holiday flirtation, but her ethical feeling is 
 even stronger than her love, since rather than violate it 
 she is ready to undergo the pain of separation. She 
 even distrusts her strong emotion, it is too rash, too 
 sadden, she wants time to give it permanence. This 
 ethical element in the character of Juliet is generally 
 not attended to. She is considered on the one hand as 
 a simple unreflecting girl, on the other hand she is 
 sometimes represented with a dash of coquetry. Both 
 these views are mistaken, she here first insists upon 
 due deliberation, and then seeks the true ethical union 
 found only in marriage. For in. marriage the Family is 
 first realized, to the emotional or subjective element of 
 love there is now added the objective or rational ele- 
 ment of an institution. This consummation could be 
 reached according to the belief of the time, only through 
 religion, which gave the divine sanction to the union 
 already formed in the emotions. Thus the Family was 
 called into existence as it were by the fiat of God, it was 
 a new and holy creation in the world which was under 
 his special blessing and protection. The ceremony is 
 performed, their unity is now a reality. 
 
 D. J. Snider. 
 
 [To be completed in the February Number.] 
 
SHAKESPEARE'S TRAGEDIES. 
 
 ROMEO AMD JULIET. 
 (Continued from the January number.) 
 
 The marriage of the lovers introduces us to the grand 
 mediator of the play, Friar Lawrence. We are ushered 
 into his presence in the quiet of early morn ; the holy 
 man of contemplation is shown in all the surroundings, 
 the very atmosphere breathes serenity and repose. His 
 reflection leads him to consider the contradictions of 
 nature and of mind ; he notes that excess calls forth 
 strife, virtue itself being strained turns to its opposite. 
 Here is given the germ of his character ; he recognizes 
 the source of all conflict, and seeks the means of its 
 reconciliation. He naturally employs the religious form 
 of expressing this contradiction : grace on the one hand, 
 rude will on the other. He has himself subordinated 
 all the passions of the soul, his order indicates his ex- 
 clusion from secular struggles, he stands in striking 
 contrast to the passion-tossed world around him. In 
 southern climates, where the blood is hot, it is the main 
 duty of the confessor to assuage the harassing emotions 
 of the individual who can not control them himself, and 
 hence must have them controlled from without. The 
 Friar is the mediator of the whole community, the very 
 intensity of their passions demands one who is without 
 passion to direct, advise, and soothe. Romeo, we see, 
 has been a frequent visitor ; the Friar was his confidant 
 when no one else was, and has already often calmed his ex- 
 cited feelings concerning Rosaline. Such is the beautiful 
 character of the Friar, standing in the midst of this tem- 
 pest of passion, controlling, directing, pacifying it, for 
 both love and hate seem equally ungovernable and de- 
 structive without his reconciling presence. He is repre- 
 sented as a profound observer of the natural properties 
 of objects, hence he can provide a drug of such wonder- 
 
Shakespeare s Romeo and Juliet. 13 
 
 ful potency for Juliet. But his chief mental principle 
 is the shunning of all extremes ; and just here lies the 
 basis of his deceptions, of the pious frauds which he 
 practices. A rigid moralist he is not, and can not be, 
 in consistency with his principle : 
 
 Virtue itself turns to vice, being misapplied. 
 
 As mediator he has to smooth over difficulties, and 
 harmonize collisions ; he can not be hampered by moral 
 punctilios at every step. He brushes them away, but 
 still he is true to the highest end and subordinates to it 
 every minor scruple. It is to be noticed that all of 
 Shakespeare's mediatorial characters have quite the same 
 traits ; they fajsify and deceive, without the least hesi- 
 tation, in order to accomplish their grand mediation. 
 The Friar unites Romeo and Juliet in marriage, for this 
 is the only solution; separation means death; religion 
 adds its sanction to love, to the right of subjectivity, 
 even against the consent of the parents ; and the new 
 family unites within itself both the Capulets and the 
 Montagues, whose ancient hatred must henceforth van- 
 ish in their descendants. Such a consummation is as- 
 suredly a great religious object. 
 
 It is now time to go back and bring up to this 
 point the counter-movement to the marriage, resulting 
 from the wooing of Paris. He is the competitor of Ro- 
 meo for the hand of Juliet, but he rests his suit not on 
 the love of the daughter but on the consent of the pa- 
 rent, and herein proceeds according to the received so- 
 cial formality. Just the opposite is Romeo who entirely 
 disregards formality, but acts from love. Hence arises 
 the conflict. Both parents of Juliet favor Paris, but the 
 father at first declares distinctly that the consent of the 
 daughter must be obtained. Afterwards he abandons 
 
14 Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 this principle and tries to force the marriage with Paris, 
 an act which brings on all the tragic consequences of the 
 drama. The strength of each suitor was shown at the 
 masquerade; love proved to be more powerful than 
 form, hence Paris had his chosen one carried off from 
 under his very eyes. This excellent young man, upon 
 whom certainly the Poet nowhere casts any reproach, 
 has been often misjudged by critics. He is not a vil- 
 lain, not a fortune-hunter, unworthy of Juliet ; the only 
 drawback is, he does not possess her heart. On the 
 contrary, he is a truly ethical character; his manner of 
 courtship was certainly the established custom of the 
 time. His conduct and final death at the tomb of Juliet 
 show that he was influenced by love ; he was not, there- 
 fore, seeking marriage from interest. The pith of his 
 contrast with Romeo is that he is a worthy man, but 
 that he has not and can not have Juliet's affection, which 
 fact, however, is nowhere made known to him in the 
 play. His love is unrequited like the first love of Ro- 
 meo, hence can not form a rational basis for marriage. 
 Such is the collision of the right of choice, against the 
 will of the parent. Paris is, therefore, a true tragic char- 
 acter, who has an end justifiable in itself, which, however, 
 collides with a higher justifiable end, and he perishes in 
 the conflict. For the intensity of Romeo is such that 
 he slays the man who stands in the way of his union, as 
 well as slays himself when union is impossible. 
 
 Such is. in outline, the first general division of the play, 
 terminating in the marriage of Romeo and Juliet. We 
 are now prepared for the second part ; namely, the sep- 
 aration of the happy pair, ending in their death. This 
 has already had its external cause given in the First Act, 
 though the fundamental motive lies in the hate of the 
 
Shakespeare's Romeo and "Juliet. 1 5 
 
 two families. Tybalt seems to have regarded the pres- 
 ence of a Montague at the masquerade, as an audacious 
 affront to his house. He, therefore, seeks a quarrel 
 with Romeo ; but for the latter, all the enmity against 
 the Capulets has vanished in his union with Juliet. Ro- 
 meo quietly endures the insult of Tybalt, but his friend 
 Mercutio takes up the quarrel. A conflict ensues in 
 which Mercutio is slain. The passionate reaction now 
 comes over Romeo, the old enmity breaks out, he 
 slays Tybalt. Again the hate of the two families has 
 disturbed public order. The State appears in the per- 
 son of the Prince and decrees the immediate banish- 
 ment of Romeo, who has so deeply violated the prin- 
 ciple of authority. 
 
 This Mercutio, who has become the instrument of 
 the banishment of his friend, and fallen a sacrifice to his 
 own interference, is a character in every way noteworthy. 
 He is the mocker who has not earnestness sufficient for 
 a real passion or a deep conviction. His chief mental 
 trait is humor coupled with a light, airy fancy. The 
 Poet has portrayed him in a series of situations, all quite 
 different, yet all manifesting the same fundamental char- 
 acteristic. First is his somewhat lengthy description of 
 Queen Mab and' her functions, wherein he makes fun of 
 the fairy mythology, and wherein, at the same time, he 
 manifests the most beautiful fancy. Here he makes the 
 ideal world his sport, yet in a most ideal manner. Hu- 
 mor and fancy were never so harmoniously blended. 
 Next he takes up the real world around him, and treats 
 it in a similar manner; he mocks in the most lively 
 way the formality and affectation of the time, in parti- 
 cular, the formal training and fencing of Tybalt. But 
 above all, he is the mocker of love, and its manifesta- 
 
1 6 Shakespeare 's Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 tions in Romeo are the subject of infinite merriment. 
 Such is the contrast — for the one, love has a tragic depth ; 
 for the other, a comic lightness. His fancy also finds 
 expression in puns and conceits, he always sees the ridi- 
 culous side ; he rallies Romeo, for instance, by not very 
 delicate inuendoes when the old nurse appears bearing 
 a message from Juliet. Thus the world dissolves in his 
 humor, he assails everything with it ; all his surround- 
 ings furnish only food for his sport. But there is noth- 
 ing cynical or bitter in his character ; it is a laugh, light, 
 airy, mercurial like his name. What causes such a man 
 to fight ? His volatile nature is brought into trying 
 circumstances that require at least strong self-command, 
 which he does not possess ; it must fly off, for it has 
 no controlling centre within itself. He thinks that Ro- 
 meo has been insulted and has basely submitted ; puff, 
 he is up and off. This, added to an evident dislike of 
 Tybalt, seems to be the motive of the fight. Though 
 the relative of the Prince, he is the friend of Romeo, 
 and takes sides with the house of Montague. As an 
 offset to him, Paris, another relative of the Prince, 
 allies himself to the Capulets and perishes. The last 
 words of Mercutio are full of repentance, though he can 
 not refrain from the jest and pun, with his dying breath. 
 The logical justification of his fate is not very apparent, 
 but it probably lies in the fact that he, though an out- 
 sider, is the first man to stir up afresh the enmity of the 
 two houses, after it had been healed or ultimately must 
 have been healed by the marriage of Romeo, as well as 
 by the conciliatory conduct of the latter. The hate 
 breaks forth anew, Mercutio is the first victim ; it is 
 his own act which calls forth his death. His mistake he 
 sees and his final curse is upon " your houses." 
 
Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. 17 
 
 Banishment is decreed, the unity of love must be 
 violently torn asunder. The conduct and feelings of 
 the lovers which are now manifested are in the most 
 perfect consonance with their principle. Both think of 
 death ; loss of existence is preferable to the loss of union, 
 so great is its intensity. They are brought forward in 
 different scenes, but their pathos is quite the same ; the 
 tragic motive is again manifest, permanent separation 
 means destruction. In the breast of Juliet, however, 
 there is a double conflict. Her dearest relative has been 
 slain by her husband, and now that husband must leave 
 her. Not dissimilar is the situation of Ophelia. Juliet, 
 in the beginning, thinks of the death of her cousin Ty- 
 balt ; her family thus comes up first in her mind, and 
 she curses Romeo. But soon the deeper principle mani- 
 fests itself; that which rends her heart is the separation, 
 and she says directly that she would rather endure the 
 destruction of her whole family, Tybalt, father and 
 mother, than the banishment of her husband. Just as 
 great is the desperation of Romeo. Again he must be- 
 take himself to the Friar, who will comfort him with 
 " adversity's sweet milk — philosophy," and will soothe 
 his agitated soul, the true function of the religious me- 
 diator. The good monk adopts the only solution pos- 
 sible : the separation must not be permanent, Romeo 
 can only be buoyed up with hope of a speedy return. 
 This hope is furnished to him by the Friar, he is now 
 prepared to endure the parting from Juliet, which ac- 
 cordingly takes place, and the separation is accom- 
 plished. 
 
 Let us now go back again and consider the thread 
 which collides with this union, namely, the suit of 
 Paris supported by the consent of the parents. In the 
 
1 8 Shakespeare s Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 absence of Romeo this thread becomes the sole element 
 of the drama, and Juliet has to support the struggle 
 alone. Her fidelity is to be tried to the utmost, afflic- 
 tions will be laid upon her, increasing in intensity till 
 death. But she will never, for a moment, flinch in her 
 devotion. The father, who previously asserted for his 
 daughter the right of love, now changes his basis and 
 commands Juliet to marry Paris. This change lies in 
 his impulsive, volatile nature, as far as the Poet has 
 given to it any motive ; he suddenly makes a " desper- 
 ate tender" of his daughter's love without having con- 
 sulted her choice. It is one of the turning-points of 
 the drama, this abrupt reversal of his former opinion. 
 Juliet is continually weeping; her father thinks her 
 mourning is for her relative Tybalt, while it is really 
 on account of the absence of Romeo. She thus seems 
 to have a share in her own misfortune by not informing 
 her parent of her love; but then any declaration of the 
 sort would have been equally fatal. It is the tragic di- 
 lemma, either way leads to death. Paris is pressing his 
 suit, both the father and the mother of Juliet favor 
 him; she resists, the result is that she is berated by her 
 parents and threatened with expulsion from home and 
 with disinheritance. Here is the next affliction after the 
 banishment of Romeo. The conflict between the right 
 of love and the will of the parent is manifested in all its 
 intensity, but she can not yield. She resorts for com- 
 fort to the nurse, who knows of her love and from 
 whom she expects sympathy. But this last source too, 
 is cut off; the old woman advises her to submit, and 
 cites every consideration but the right one, namely 
 love, which is the sole possible motive with Juliet. 
 Thereupon, she is done with the nurse ; their friendly 
 
Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. la. 
 
 relation henceforth ceases, and the nurse disappears from 
 every essential mediation of the play. 
 
 The nurse is also one of the important instrumentali- 
 ties of the drama ; her function is partly mediatorial, 
 though in a far less degree than that of the Friar. Her 
 portrait is taken from nature direct, nothing can be 
 more real and life-like. She almost supplies in care and 
 affection the place of a mother ; she is the friend and 
 confidant of Juliet, while Lady Capulet appears in the 
 distance, a stranger to the nursery, and the supporter of 
 the marriage with Paris. The maternal feeling in her 
 bosom does not seem very strong. The nurse, on the 
 contrary, supports, for a time at least, the love of Juliet 
 against her family. She is, however, of low birth, vul- 
 gar in language and coarse in character, hence is ready 
 for the sway of interest. The ideal devotion of Juliet 
 she can in no sense appreciate, it lies far beyond her 
 horizon, and so she advises its abandonment. The real- 
 istic fullness and limited range of her characterization 
 gives the clearest picture in the play ; her garrulity, her 
 habit of citing old memories in which she dwells, her 
 sudden changes of thought, her trickery and teasing, 
 are all united into the most vivid individuality. 
 
 As soon as the nurse, gives this advice to abandon 
 Romeo her mediatorial function ceases ; the case is out 
 of her reach, the Friar alone can understand and solve 
 the difficulty. Accordingly Juliet betakes herself to 
 his cell ; at once she finds both sympathy and aid, for 
 it is the character of the Friar to give complete validity 
 to love. He is ready with a plan : she must drink off 
 a liquor which produces the semblance of death, and be 
 buried in the vault of her family, whither he and Ro- 
 meo will come to her rescue. This means appears far- 
 
20 Shakespeare s Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 fetched and without adequate motive. Why could she 
 not have gone directly to his cell and secreted herself, 
 or have slipped off and hurried to Romeo at Mantua? 
 Yet the design of the Poet is manifest. Since he is por- 
 traying love in its highest intensity, he makes it endure 
 every gradation of trial and finally death itself. The 
 most terrible thing to the human imagination is proba- 
 bly the idea of being buried alive, and shut in a vault 
 with dead bodies. But she, a tender girl, resolves to 
 undergo what would make the heart of the most cour- 
 ageous man blench. It is the affliction next to death, 
 yet love gives her the daring to endure Read her so- 
 liloquy as she drinks of the contents of the vial. There 
 she recounts the possibilities, imagination starts up the 
 direst phantasms, madness stares her in the face, still 
 she will drink. This occurrence, therefore, is in perfect 
 harmony with the spirit of the play ; before death Juliet 
 is brought to the tomb alive. It is one of the series of 
 trials, increasing in pain and horror, in whose fire her 
 love must be tested. 
 
 But just here are incidents portrayed which we cannot 
 help attributing to the youthfulness of the author. What 
 necessity of exhibiting the sorrow of the parents over 
 their supposed dead child, which must be a false pathos 
 to the audience ? Friar Lawrence again appears in his 
 true role of mediator and consoler, but his dissimulation 
 now seriously impairs- his high ethical character. Both 
 the weeping of the parents and the deception of the 
 Friar could have been here omitted without injury to 
 the action, and to the decided advantage of thought 
 and logical consistency. In fact this is the main defect 
 of the entire drama: it has a certain natural fullness 
 which makes it often vivid, but obscures its unity as a 
 
Shakespeare s Romeo and "Juliet. 21 
 
 whole. It lacks the more rigid adherence to a central 
 thought found in the later works of the Poet. 
 
 The conflict of Juliet with the will of her parents is 
 thus solved by the plan of the Friar, who protects her 
 against her family as he protected Romeo against the au- 
 thority of the State. Nothing now seems in the way of 
 the speedy reunion of the separated lovers. Romeo is 
 still in exile, filled with longings and anticipations of 
 the time when he will be restored to his Juliet. His 
 thoughts by day and his dreams by night have no other 
 employment. Suddenly the terrible news arrives, Juliet 
 is dead. His love is at once all ablaze, he will still be 
 united with her, though in death. He resolves to set out 
 immediately for home. But herein he disobeys the 
 Friar, and acts without the latter's knowledge. Thus 
 the Friar's plan is interfered with and destroyed. Romeo 
 proceeds upon mistaken information and the good 
 monk fails in his mediation. The lover hastens to the 
 tomb there to lie in death with Juliet, but he meets 
 Paris. The latter attempts to interfere with his resolu- 
 tion, and to stand in the way of his union with Juliet. 
 Paris is slain, for such is the intensity of this love that 
 it destroys every obstacle in its way, and destroys itself 
 when it cannot be realized. Thus Romeo kills himself 
 too, in preference to living without this union. Juliet 
 wakes, sees her lover at her side dead, she also cannot 
 live apart from their union in the Family. They are 
 thus alike in devotion, but it is manifest that Juliet is 
 the truer and loftier character. Her sacrifice belongs to 
 her sex, is its profoundest ethical principle. But Romeo 
 does not rise above this same character. He is too 
 much like a woman, his pathos is too feminine. A man 
 must find some higher ethical principle for which he 
 
11 Shakespeare s Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 sacrifices existence ; for example, the State. On this 
 account Romeo can never be as great a favorite as Juliet, 
 he falls below the true type of manhood. 
 
 Again authority has been assailed, blood has been 
 spilled in another fray, the Prince, as the representa- 
 tive of the State, appears the third and last time. There 
 is, however, no one to punish. The play must explain 
 itself. The Friar together with the page of Paris and 
 the servant of Romeo unfold the causes of the unto- 
 ward calamity. This is not an unnecessary appendage, 
 for Shakespeare always makes in the end, the play clear 
 to its own actors, thus only is it complete in itself. The 
 Friar, after telling all his plans of mediation, offers to 
 die, but of course that man cannot perish who chiefly 
 sought to ward off the tragic consequences of the fatal 
 love. 
 
 Thus we see that the logical result of this feud has 
 been the annihilation of the family. Each house willed 
 the destruction of the other, and therein the destruction 
 of itself. For their conduct must return upon themselves, 
 and the drama only portrays the manner of that return. 
 Both families lose their children, their heirs, and in 
 their loss must pass away forever. The Prince, too, 
 suffers along with them for "winking at the discords," 
 and he declares in the plainest terms the great law of 
 retribution, by which all are punished. 
 
 We have now reached the termination of the second 
 division or movement of the play, namely, the union 
 of the lovers in death. Their last and greatest trial has 
 been passed, both have remained true to love. Their tie 
 was so strong, their oneness so complete, that they could 
 not really exist as separate individuals. The grand object 
 of the play has been frequently stated: it is to portray 
 
Shakespeare s Romeo and Juliet. 13 
 
 a love so intense that separation must cause death. But 
 such a result is contrary to the common experience of 
 mankind, and hence the Poet seeks every possible 
 means for manifesting the intensity of the passion. That 
 it lay in the character of Romeo never to recover his in- 
 dividuality after it was once surrendered to his affection, 
 is shown in the first division of the play ; the taking 
 away of the loved object is literally the taking away of 
 himself, so complete is his sacrifice. Juliet's passion 
 is motived, both in kind and in degree, by that of 
 Romeo, her devotion must be as great as his. The 
 second division of the tragedy portrays the separation 
 of the pair, at first supposed to be only temporary ; but 
 the moment Romeo, and afterwards Juliet, become pos- 
 sessed of the notion that the separation will be eternal, 
 self destruction is the logical necessity of their charac- 
 ters. It is indeed the tragedy of love, this coloring of 
 intensity it keeps throughout amid all its vagaries and 
 excrescences. This is in fact the deep underlying unity 
 of the work whose power every one must feel. The 
 guilt of the unhappy pair must be placed here also, if 
 we can predicate guilt of them. The emotional nature 
 of man must be controlled and subordinated to the ra- 
 tional principle and under no circumstances can it have 
 the right to utterly absorb and destroy individual ex- 
 istence. 
 
 The third division is the reconciliation of the two 
 hostile houses. The Prince insists upon it, the public 
 order of the city has been violated ; he has also lost 
 two of his kinsmen in the feud, he too, has been pun- 
 ished in his family. This part of the action is exceed- 
 ingly short, but it must rank as coordinate with the 
 other two divisions, if it is to have any place in the 
 
24 Shakespeare 's Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 play at all. Thus the tragic intention of the whole 
 drama seems for a moment to vanish in the repentance 
 and reconciliation of the Montagues and Capulets. 
 
 I am not unaware of the ingenious defence which has 
 been frequently set up concerning the necessity of this 
 termination. But such a defense proves too much, it 
 must by implication, censure Shakespeare's greater and 
 more mature tragedies in which this reconciliation does 
 not take place. But the view has several other difficul 
 ties which must always excite a great deal of doubt 
 concerning the propriety of such a conclusion. If the 
 play be a tragedy, it would naturally seem to terminate 
 with the death of the lovers or with the explanation of 
 the Friar. But as it now stands there is a mediation of 
 the hate of the two houses. The question then arises, 
 was the fate of Romeo and Juliet only the means or the 
 end of the action ? .To make it only the means would 
 appear to destroy the whole purport of the play, which 
 was, as above shown, to give an adequate motive for 
 the death of the lovers. It must be confessed that there 
 is a species of dualism which is not overcome by the 
 present solution. 
 
 There is another important consideration which should 
 not be omitted. Repentance ought to bring witn it some 
 fruition, some escape from the consequences of guilt. It 
 is hard, indeed it is a contradiction, for the individual 
 to repent, and then to be as bad off as he was before. 
 The parents have lost their children, repentance can now 
 do little good, at least, it cannot save their families, 
 which was the question at issue. Shakespeare has fre- 
 quently employed repentance, it is, in fact, the great 
 mediating principle in that class of his plays which may be 
 called Special Dramas, as distinguished from Tragedies 
 
Shakespeare s Romeo and Juliet. 25 
 
 and Comedies. But repentance implies restoration, it 
 rescues those who yield to its influence, from the tragic 
 consequences of their deeds. The present play, however, 
 exhibits an intermediate stage, a sort of transition from 
 pure tragedy to the special drama, owing, perhaps, to 
 the youthfulness of the author, who had not yet strictly 
 determined the different provinces of his art 
 
 D. J. Snider. 
 
SHAKESPEARE'S TRAGEDIES. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 The impression left upon the mind by this drama is 
 that of terrific grandeur. In it is found probably the 
 strongest language ever written or spoken by a human 
 being. Dante has passages of fiery intensity, iEschy- 
 lus has strains of wonderful sublimity, but nothing in 
 either of these poets is equal to the awful imprecations 
 of Lear. The grand characteristic of the play is 
 strength, Titanic strength, which can only be ade- 
 quately compared to the mightiest forces of Nature. 
 There is a world-destroying element in it which op- 
 presses the individual and makes him feel like fleeing 
 from the crash or the Universe. The super-human 
 power, passion and expression, can ohly be symbolized 
 by the tempest or volcano ; it is indeed the modern 
 battle of the Giants and the Gods. Shakespeare, like 
 other poets, seems to have had his Titanic epoch, and 
 his Lear may be well called the most colossal speci- 
 men of literary Titanism. 
 
 It will be noticed that the action of the play lies in 
 the sphere of the Family, and portrays one of its es- 
 sential relations, that of parents and children. The 
 conflicts arising from this relation involve also brothers 
 and sisters in strife. The domestic side of life is thus 
 torn with fearful struggles, and its quiet affection and 
 repose are turned into a display of malignant hate and 
 passion. Each element is present, there is on the one 
 hand the most heroic fidelity, and on the other, the 
 
28 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 most wanton infidelity. The parents are both faithful 
 and faithless to their relation ; so are the children, 
 taken collectively. Such are its contradictory princi- 
 ples, and hence arises the conflict, in which the offend- 
 ing individuals perish, since they destroy the very con- 
 dition of. their own existence, namely, the Family. But 
 those who have been true to their domestic relations, 
 and have not otherwise committed wrong, are preserved. 
 It is essentially the story of fidelity and infidelity to 
 the Family. 
 
 The threads of the play are fundamentally two, 
 which, however, unite, separate and collide in various 
 ways. The first thread io .lie family of Gloster, the sec- 
 ond is the family of Lear, the attendants of each being 
 included. They have the same logical basis ; the one 
 can behold its features in the other as it were in a mir- 
 ror. The drama gives a double reflection of the same 
 content. Both fathers cause an utter disruption of 
 their families by their mistakes and their passion ; they 
 drive off the faithful children and cherish the faithless 
 ones ; they are even ready to hand over to the latter 
 their property and power. Both parents meet with a 
 terrible punishment for the wrong done by them to 
 their faithful children. But this punishment is received 
 at the hands of their faithless children who had obtained 
 all the favors, and who thus in turn fall into guilt, 
 which will also be punished. There are, however, 
 many differences of character, of situation, and of inci- 
 dent between the two threads. The one father has 
 only daughters, the other has only sons; each relation 
 therefore, represents a distinct side of the Family, 
 Lear is king, Gloster is subject, both taken together 
 show that the conflict is not limited to one rank, but 
 
Shakespeare 's Tragedies. 29 
 
 pervades the chief classes of society. Lear is irascible, 
 Gloster is superstitious ; the result however, is the 
 same. Both groups indicate that it is the epoch of 
 strife in the Family. 
 
 The two threads are sufficiently simple, but the psy- 
 chological changes of character are far more difficult of 
 comprehension. There will be touched almost every 
 note in the gamut of the human mind, from sanity to 
 madness. Also the grand transitions of the whole 
 action must be carefully noted and accounted for, since 
 everything is in a process, not only the individual, but 
 also the entire group and the entire drama. As in life 
 itself, each part moves, and the totality moves. The 
 development is that upon which the chief stress ought 
 to be laid. 
 
 The general movement of the plav has essentially 
 two divisions. There is in it a double guilt and a dou- 
 ble retribution. The first division (embracing mainly 
 three Acts) exhibits the complete disintegration of the 
 Family. It portrays the first guilt and the first retri- 
 bution — the wrong of the parents and its punishment. 
 Lear banishes his daughter, his daughters in turn drive 
 him out of doors — Gloster expels from home and dis- 
 inherits his true and faithful son in favor of the illegi- 
 timate and faithless son, and is then himself falsely ac- 
 cused and betrayed bv the latter. Cordelia too falls 
 into guilt in her attempt to avenge the wrongs of her 
 father. Thus the disruption is complete, the parents 
 expelled, the false triumphant, the faithful in disguise 
 and banishment. Such is the first division — the wrong 
 done bv the parents to their children and its punish- 
 ment. The second division will unfold the second 
 <Tuilt and the second retribution — the wrong done bv 
 
30 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 by the children to their patents and its punishment. 
 It must be observed, however, that the deeds of the 
 children which are portrayed in the first division of the 
 drama constitute their guilt. On the one hand they 
 are instruments of retribution, but on the other hand 
 their conduct is a violation of ethical principle as deep 
 as that of their parents. They are the avengers of 
 guilt, but in this very act become themselves guilty and 
 must receive punishment. The general result therefore 
 of the second division will be the completed retribu- 
 tion. Lear and his three guilty daughters — for we 
 have to include Cordelia under this category — as well 
 as Gloster and his guilty son perish. The faithful of 
 both families come together in their banishment, Cor- 
 delia assails the established State, the consequence of 
 her deed is death. The faithless of both families also 
 come together ; though they triumph in the external 
 conflict, there necessarily arises a struggle among them- 
 selves, for how can the faithless be faithful to one an- 
 other? The jealousy of the two sisters leads to a 
 conspiracy and to their final destruction. Edmund, 
 faithless to both, falls at last by the hand of his brother 
 whom he has so deeply wronged. 
 
 This short analysis is intended as a sort of tabular 
 statement to guide the reader through the various com- 
 plications of the play. I hope that the two distinctions 
 which have been above unfolded will not become a source 
 of confusion instead of a means of comprehension. 
 Let it be borne in mind that the threads divide the 
 drama lengthwise, while the divisions of the action, as be- 
 fore explained, divide it crosswise. Each thread in each 
 division will be elaborated in proper order, But the 
 thought must not be entertained that these distinctions 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 3 1 
 
 are external and arbitrary ; on the contrary they are or- 
 ganic, they show the essential members of the whole, 
 all of which should be logically connected. 
 
 We shall accordingly take up the first thread and 
 carry it tbrough the first division of the action. The 
 play opens with the conversation of Gloster concerning 
 his family relations. He speaks of his incontinence 
 with light-hearted frivolity ; here is the fruit of it in a 
 grown-up son who is present after a long absence, but 
 must be sent away again. That son hears his own 
 shame from the lips of his indiscreet parent, and we can 
 well imagine the bitterness in his heart and his resolu- 
 tion to thwart his father's purpose. Here is indicated 
 the crime of Gloster and the instrument of his retribu- 
 tion. He has committed the deepest wrong against the 
 Family, he has called a contradiction into existence 
 which it is impossible to heal. A son and not a son, 
 a child by nature yet a child which the Family rejects, 
 disowns, banishes, though it is the special function of 
 the Family, to rear and cherish the child. The wrong 
 of Gloster is therefore double. He has wronged the 
 Family, the conditions of whose existence he has tramp- 
 led under foot, and at the same time made it the instru- 
 ment of the direst injustice against an innocent being. 
 But his wrong against his own child is still greater, it is 
 a born outcast from the institutions of society. If 
 guilt is ever requited at the hands of the injured, that 
 father is bound to receive punishment from that son. 
 
 But here is the son, speaking in his own person, let 
 us see how he feels. He invokes nature against the 
 plague of custom, for by nature he is in every way as 
 good as his legitimate brother, indeed he is better. 
 Therefore he will have his rights, particularly his share 
 
32 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 in the paternal patrimony, even if he assail and destroy 
 everything high and holy in his attempt. His course 
 and character are simply the logical result of his situa- 
 tion. He must turn against all institutions, for they 
 have made him an outcast of society and deprived him 
 of his estate. Yet it is from no fault of his own he thus 
 finds himself punished for crimes which he never com- 
 mitted. That which is called morality shuns him, scoffs 
 at him, tramples him into the dust. All the safeguards 
 which have been built up to protect the individual as 
 Family, State, Law, are turned to his degradation and 
 destruction. The illegitimate child therefore is the na- 
 tural villain, hostile to the Family, to Society, to Law, 
 to Morality; in him institutions become contradictory 
 of their purpose, and he must bear the sting of their 
 wrong. Hence he worships nature, for there alone he 
 is the peer of all. He is thus not without adequate 
 motives for his conduct, still he is a villain, for such 
 every man must be called who deliberately and persist- 
 ently assails the ethical principles of the world. Yet if 
 he follows these principles, they crush him. Edmund 
 has taken his choice, he prefers honor and distinction 
 through villainy, to shame and degradation through 
 virtue. But still the fatal outcome of his career, what- 
 ever may have been its cause, can not be averted. 
 
 Edmund accordingly begins to work out his schemes. 
 He turns against his legitimate brother, because the 
 latter is the bearer of all those ethical elements which 
 crush him. He turns against his father, who was theorig- 
 inal author of the wrong, the evil consequences of which 
 however, the child must endure. Still filial affection is 
 his duty, under all circumstances ; moreover, he has 
 been given an education, and is beloved bv his father. 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. jj 
 
 Here the theme can be seen to be the same as that of 
 Lear: filial ingratitude and paternal wrong. Edmund 
 finds his father just in the mood to be successfully de- 
 ceived, for the latter is excited over the occurrences at 
 court, especially over the banishment of his friend 
 Kent, It is the season of treachery, Gloster thinks, 
 and the son proceeds to inject into his mind the deadly 
 suspicion against his brother Edgar, and at the same 
 time artfully conceals his own motives. Gloster is su- 
 perstitious fundamentally, he sees in Nature, in the 
 eclipses of the sun and moon, the collisions of the 
 moral world ; he is always ready to' assign to blind 
 physical causes the obliquities of man's own action. 
 By thus ignoring human freedom, he would seem to try 
 to get rid of his own guilt. But Edmund is just the 
 opposite in this respect, he does not believe in these 
 external influences, but announces in the boldest terms 
 the self-determination of man. He is the conscious 
 villain, and takes upon himself the full responsibility 
 of his own act. He therefore, quickly perceives the 
 weakness of his father, and uses it to his own advan- 
 tage. 
 
 Equally well does he grasp and utilize the weak side 
 of his brother Edgar's character. At first, however, 
 he touches the same chord which lay so deep in the pa- 
 ternal nature, namely superstition. But the plan does 
 not work well. Edgar is not superstitious, but he 
 is wholly unsuspecting. Accordingly he does what 
 Edmund urges him to do, avoids his father. Both 
 Edgar and Gloster have therefore credulity, and that 
 too credulity of such magnitude that it requires consid- 
 erable credulity in the reader to believe it possible. 
 But they reach it through different channels, the father 
 
34 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 is superstitious, hence credulous, the son is simple- 
 minded and unsophisticated, hence credulous. Either 
 will do for the wily villain. 
 
 Edgar is concealed at first by his brother from the 
 wrath of the parent, then is inveigled into making the 
 pretended assault upon the latter, after which he betakes 
 himself to flight. He must be imagined as possessing 
 a primitive innocence which knows of no such thing as 
 deception in the world. Upon this utter guilelessness 
 Edmund relies with success. Again the latter touches 
 skillfully the old chord in his father's bosom, which 
 he knows will be most effective, namely superstition : 
 
 Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out, 
 Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon, 
 To stand auspicious mistress. 
 
 Evidently the most startling words in the ear of old 
 Gloster are just those. Each is therefore wrought upon 
 through his peculiar weakness. But we shall hereafter 
 see that Edgar passes through a course of severe in- 
 struction, and learns something. From his present 
 innocent state of mind he is to come to a knowledge of 
 evil in some of its varied manifestations. 
 
 The honest and faithful son has now been driven 
 from home, the true and ethical relation of the Family 
 has beeri annihilated by the faithless and immoral one. 
 But that is not all, Edgar is pursued as a murderer, is 
 outlawed, and a price is set on his head. The institu- 
 tions of society are invoked to destroy him ; though 
 true to both, yet Family and State have turned against 
 him in favor of one who is false to both. The ethical 
 order of the world is reversed, just as was declared by 
 Gloster himself, and yet he is the author of the present 
 condition of things. But what is to become of poor 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 35 
 
 Edgar ? Without domestic or even civil protection, 
 he has to flee, and in some way avoid the oppression of 
 society. He can only assume the meanest and most 
 loathsome disguise and wander over the country feign- 
 ing both madness and beggary. For are not the insti- 
 tutions of man, through which alone personal security 
 is possible, directed against him, and must he not get 
 out of their reach? Still he will remain faithful to his 
 parent in spite of his wrongs, for fidelity is ever faith- 
 ful. Nor will he go mad like Lear, from his fall, 
 though he descends from being a nobleman's son to the 
 lowest depth of humiliation. Innocence, therefore, 
 dares not show its face in this perverted world, but has 
 to hide itself under the garb of insanity. Fidelity too, 
 must disguise itself from the clutches of the faithless. 
 The disruption of Gloster's family is now complete. 
 That which the eclipses foreshadowed has come to pass, 
 father against child, child against father. Yet it was 
 the consequence of his own innate disposition which was 
 thus predicted, the presentiment of his own character. 
 He had within himself the possibility of these events, 
 that is what he saw in the stars. The signs of nature 
 were to hi.n an unavoidable fate,because they were simply 
 the image of his deepest self. The Bastard is infinitely 
 the intellectual superior of his father, for he believes 
 in mind and relies upon thought. He knows that 
 the individual is determined through himself. Hence 
 comes his success, because he works through intelligence. 
 But he too makes a mistake, he imagines his standpoint 
 to be absolute, whereas it also is limited. He thinks 
 the world is moved solely through cunning, he therefore 
 ignores the eternal ethical laws of the universe. To 
 employ the technical language of philosophy, his faith 
 
3 6 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 is in his own subjective intelligence alone, but the ob- 
 jective world of spirit he neither believes in, nor cares 
 for. He therefore collides with it and perishes. 
 
 But the deepest stroke of villainous cunning is still 
 to come. Edmund has succeeded in getting rid of the 
 presence of his brother, now he must have the property. 
 His next scheme is therefore to work upon his father to 
 this end. But here arises a great difficulty which the 
 intellectual rogue perfectly comprehends and carefully 
 prepares for. While he is instilling suspicion, how is 
 he to avoid suspicion himself? he is seeking his bro- 
 ther's patrimony by exciting mistrust, will he not be 
 himself mistrusted of doing that very thing ? This is the 
 logical consequence of such conduct; a man who tries 
 to arouse suspicion will be apt to be suspected ; it is 
 his own action returning upon him, for his principle is 
 suspicion. Only the most adroit villain can make the 
 synthesis of these two contradictory sides. Independent 
 of the fact that Gloster is not hard to deceive, Edmund 
 succeeds admirably. His method is to declare openly 
 the suspicion to which he is liable, and which is really 
 true of him. Here is his language to his father : 
 
 I threatened to discover him, he replied 
 "Thou unpossessing bastard ! dast thou think, 
 If I would stand against thee, would the reposal 
 Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee 
 Make thy words faithed ? . . . . 
 And thou must make a dullard of the world 
 If they not thought the profits of my death 
 Were very pregnant and potential spurs 
 To make thee seek it." 
 
 "Edgar said that I would be suspected of plotting for 
 his inheritance and therefore nobody would believe me." 
 All suspicion is thus anticipated and destroyed in the 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 37 
 
 mind of the father. Edmund appears to be the faithful 
 son without property, and Edgar the faithless son with 
 property. Gloster at once makes an adjustment, he 
 says to Edmund : you shall have my estate. Edgar's 
 offence is made to spring from his being heir; of the 
 heirship he is therefore deprived. 
 
 The reader will notice that the crafty rogue announ- 
 ces here the very thing of which he is guilty; he is 
 seeking the patrimony of his brother. Hypocrisy and 
 falsehood are now carried to their climax ; hypocrisy 
 hypocritically condemns its own plan, falsehood falsely 
 laments falsehood. Edmund declares his own nefarious 
 scheme as something of which he might be suspected. 
 Thus, however, he destroys suspicion! A careful con- 
 cealment would be certain to arouse it, but when a per- 
 son finds his most secret misgivings openly announced 
 by the one who is suspected, suspicion is apt to take 
 its flight. Gloster might suspect that Edmund was de- 
 ceiving him and trying to be his heir, but the latter 
 puts this very suspicion into the mouth of Edgar as 
 the ground of mistrust against himself. Thus its foun- 
 dation is brushed away, for it is the nature of suspicion 
 to rest upon its own secresy ; let the villain destroy this 
 secresy and he is generally successful. Suspicion 
 seems to take for granted that the motives of a scamp 
 must always be hidden. To avoid suspicion means 
 usually to be open, without concealment. The above 
 mentioned trait of Edmund,Shakespeare has given to 
 other villains, notably to Iago. Villainy is full of the 
 reproof of villainy, and thus seems honesty, which is 
 just that which it is not, but it is still villainy. 
 
 Still Edmund is not satisfied, he is not willing to 
 quietly waitfor the succession, but his father must be 
 
38 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 got rid of too. Gloster sympathized deeply with Lear 
 and therefore incurred the enmity of the ruling powers. 
 He has received by letter information of the invasion 
 of Cordelia, his leaning is decidedly toward her party. 
 He expresses this inclination and also imparts the news 
 which he has received to the son whom he supposed to 
 be faithful. The son at once betrays his father and is 
 made Earl of Gloster. Edmund who had previously 
 been taken into the service of the sisters, has now ob- 
 tained all that his family possessed, and has thus reached 
 the goal of his first ambition. But a new and higher 
 sphere has been opened to him, namely, the possession 
 of the State. 
 
 The fearful retribution of Gloster speedily follows. 
 He has not seen that he has been doing to his own 
 child what Goneril and Regan were doing to their 
 father. The old man is seized, his eyes are plucked 
 out and he is thrust forth to grope his way in the world. 
 Like the ancient CEdipus, he did not see when he had 
 eyes, the result is, he loses them. He learns however, 
 that Edmund is the informer who has brought upon 
 him the present calamity, and at once the whole truth 
 flashes upon his mind. He has pursued an innocent 
 son with murderous wrath and outlawry, he is himself 
 now driven forth houseless and homeless, and he too 
 has a price set upon his head. Another son he has 
 brought into the world of institutions under circum- 
 stances which produce nothing but wrong and degrada- 
 tion ; that son is the necessary instrument of his pun- 
 ishment. He has destroyed the rational principle of 
 the Family by his act; his own family is disrupted and 
 turned against him. The consequences of his deed are 
 upon him. 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 39 
 
 Such is the first thread of the first division, ending 
 in the complete disruption of Gloster's family. It is 
 now time to go back to the beginning and trace the 
 second thread of this first division, namely the family 
 of Lear, to a similar disruption. The general offense 
 of both Gloster and Lear is the same : violation of the 
 right of the Family. Their conduct is fundamentally 
 the same : they trust their faithless and banish their 
 faithful children. But the origin and special form of 
 their offenses are very different. The play presupposes 
 in Gloster the act of incontinence, in Lear the tyran- 
 nical disposition which overbears and destroys all indi- 
 vidual right. With this latter character, we are now 
 prepared to begin. 
 
 The central figure of the second, thread, in fact of 
 the whole play, is the king. The three essential circum- 
 stances pertaining to him are his time of life, his long 
 rule, and his absolute power. They make him a tyrant, 
 but a tyrant of a peculiar kind. He is introduced to 
 ■ us with a character long since formed, and now hardened 
 and stiffened with age. He has been and is still the 
 absolute monarch whose mandates are not to be ques- 
 tioned. This unlimited authority has fed his temper till 
 it is wholly unyielding and wholy uncontrollable. Any 
 restraint put upon his caprice causes him to boil over 
 with the most intense passion ; irascibility has therefore 
 become one of his most marked characteristics. The 
 course, of the drama will exhibit the various limitations 
 placed upon him, one after another, and increasing in 
 severity, till the absolute monarch who prescribed to all 
 their bounds, becomes the outcast, the most limited of 
 mortals. Old age, long rule, and uncontrolled power 
 combined can alone produce such a man. 
 
40 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 Now this king whose character springs from and rests 
 upon unlimited authority is ready to surrender his sway, 
 that is, to surrender the very ground of his existence. 
 Tired of the cares of government, yet not weary of 
 its pomp and outward show, he proposes to resign the 
 reality of power and yet retain its appearance, to play 
 the king and yet to be freed from the troubles of king- 
 ship. He will thus reduce himself to a mere semblance ; 
 his desire is to seem to possess authority, while in truth 
 he has wiped its last vestige. Such is the contradiction 
 which he deems possible to be realized. The logical 
 result is manifest, the shadow must prove itself to be 
 shadow and not substance, the show of authority must 
 go where authority actually resides. 
 
 This will be a leading phase of the progress of Lear 
 in the second thread before us. He will pass from 
 semblance to nothingness; there is no help for him 
 since he is fighting for a shadow and has thrown away 
 that which might assist him, if anything could, namely, 
 authority. Every remnant of power will be stripped 
 from him, the ensigns of royalty will also be taken 
 away, he will descend from the palace to the hovel. In 
 general, from the absolute monarch he will become the 
 humblest individual : a transition which is wholy invol- 
 ved in his choosing the shadow for the substance of 
 authority. 
 
 Running parallel with this transition is another which 
 is intimately connected with it, the transition frorn sanity 
 to madness. Domination, unopposed and uncontrolled, 
 was the basis upon which the spiritual nature of Lear 
 reposed ; destroy this basis, and the prop of his mind 
 is gone. He was too old and too stiff to adjust him- 
 self at once to such an overwhelming and sudden 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 41 
 
 change in his outward circumstances. He was wholly 
 the creature of external forms, his thoughts rested in 
 them, when they are gone, he has quite lost the entire 
 content of his existence. The insanity of Lear thus 
 has its adequate motive in the suddenness and com- 
 pleteness of this transition. 
 
 Such is in general the character of Lear, let us now 
 consider its effect upon those around him, upon his 
 family and court. What will be the results of long 
 years of arbitrary rule ? Two classes must arise, on 
 the one hand the hypocritical and faithless, on the other 
 the rigid and faithful. The former class is composed 
 of the sycophants of power, who administer to the ca- 
 prices of rulers, who flatter and fawn in success, but are 
 equally ready to desert, and even to strike, in misfor- 
 tune. They are the product of a forced external con- 
 formity, full of intrigue and treachery. Lear's court is 
 mainly composed of such characters, at the head of 
 whom stand, Goneril and Regan ; vet even his 
 own chosen companions, his knights, seem no ex- 
 ception. But the second class will also be there, 
 made up of the virtuous few, who, by a kind of re- 
 action, will be the very opposite of what they see around- 
 themselves. They must possess strong, even stoical 
 natures to resist the current. Instead of the gLb and 
 guileful phrases of the courtier, they will be blunt and 
 direct in speech ; the prevailing corruption will only in- 
 crease the stern code of their morality ; but chiefly the 
 utter faithlessness of the time will engender in them the 
 most heroic fidelity. In Lear's own family this class is 
 represented by Cordelia, in the Court by Kent, in a still 
 different relation, more fully to be explained hereafter, 
 by the Fool. These two classes therefore spring di- 
 
42 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 rectly from the character and situation of hear. More- 
 over, since' he has chosen the semblance and rejected the 
 reality, his course must be to retain the false flatterer 
 and drive off the true friend. Hence, the second class 
 will soon be compelled to fly from his presence. 
 
 The tyrannical nature of Lear therefore seeks to re- 
 duce everybody to an apparent submission and outward 
 conformity. His first collision is with the true and 
 honest people of his court, whom he banishes. Having 
 thus made the world around him a semblance, he also 
 concludes to become semblance himself. Lear is thus 
 about to manifest in his action four phases of transi- 
 tion, all of which are the direct consequences of his 
 character and situation : he will pass from unlimited 
 power to the most limited existence, from appearance to 
 nothingness, from sanity to madness, from wrong against 
 his daughter to wrong from his daughters. That is, the 
 negative sweep of his deed involves in one common de 
 struction the world of action, of intelligence, and of 
 morality. 
 
 Having thus elaborated the essential elements of the 
 second thread, we can now take up its incidents and 
 trace the above-mentioned principles in their concrete 
 development. First comes the division of the realm 
 by Lear, who bases his conduct upon his daughters' ex- 
 pressions of love toward him. This scene has been 
 often censured, and sometimes defended, upon a miscon- 
 ception of its meaning. It has just been stated that 
 the character of Lear rests in the outward form and not 
 the inner-essence, that he prefers the semblance of power 
 to its reality. So the appearance is there, he is satisfied. 
 Hence it is in perfect keeping with his situation, and 
 strongly indicative of his character that he lays far more 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 43 
 
 stress upon external and noisy expressions of love than 
 upon genuine but quiet affection. Goneril and Regan 
 both declare in formal phrase their unfathomable, un- 
 speakable devotion, and receive their share of the king- 
 dom. Now comes Cordelia, she will be the opposite, 
 according to her severe nature, and she will also be 
 blunt in speech. She loves her father according to her 
 duty, no more. She places, therefore, a limit upon her 
 love to parent, an ethical one too, that of love to 
 husband. The old man at once boils over with anger, 
 curses and banishes his daughter. In his imprecation 
 he renounces fatherhood, he commits the crime against 
 the Family, his curse will be literally fulfilled in himself 
 through his other daughters. The code of Cordelia is . 
 duty and truth in all their severity. She proposes not 
 only to do what is right, but to say it without disguise. 
 Her manner is firm and resolute, but quiet; she is not 
 the simple ethical character, but is reflective and intel- 
 lectual. She knows the disposition of her sisters and 
 indicates the result. She rejects the suit of Burgundy, 
 since his love is not pure, but based on gain. Her acts 
 seem not instinctive, but rather the result of conscious 
 principles, which are her guide and support in the pre- 
 vailing corruption. She is therefore essentially intel- 
 lectual, a woman who can think and who carefully ad- 
 justs herself in all the ethical relations of life. But she 
 is at the same time womanly and devoted. For her as- 
 sertion of supreme love to husband, she is cursed by 
 Lear, who thus curses the very essence of the Family 
 whose first principle is the unity and mutual devotion 
 of man and wife. 
 
 Kent, who belongs to the same school of stern moral- 
 ists as Cordelia, also undertakes to place a limit upon 
 
44 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 the old King. The result is just what must happen 
 from an aged and absolute ruler. His rage swells at the 
 audacity, and Kent is banished. In the latter, honest 
 counsel .and courageous utterance take their departure 
 from the Court. But fidelity is forever faithful, that of 
 Kent is stoical, the deepest principle of his nature. 
 Whatever wrongs he may suffer as an individual, he is 
 still true to his allegiance. Hence he will return and 
 serve his king jn disguise, he can not do otherwise. 
 With this obstinate nature is coupled another cognate 
 trait, he is rough in manner and blunt in speech. As 
 above stated, he is the product of the reaction against 
 courtly hypocrisy and flattery. 
 
 Lear has now succeeded in getting rid of every spe- 
 cies of fidelity, fidelity to parent in Cordelia, and fidel- 
 ity to King in Kent, fidelity to Family and to State. The 
 world of appearance is everywhere triumphant, Lear has 
 completely realized his principle, he is himself a shadow, 
 all are shadows around him, they seem what they are 
 not. Even fidelity must disguise itself, it dares not ap- 
 pear in its real form, hence Kent has to put on a decep- 
 tive guise in order to be faithful. Wisdom also can 
 show her face only in the garb of folly, the sagest coun- 
 sellor of the King is his Fool. The same result was ob- 
 served in the preceding thread concerning the family of 
 Gloster. Edmund the innocent and true son, is com- 
 pelled to flee and assume the guise of a madman, while 
 the false Bastard is triumphant in his wildest schemes. 
 Society is a grand masquerade, where each person seems 
 to be what he is not ; the world has become one im- 
 mense deception. 
 
 When such a state of things becomes universal, the 
 logical result begins to make itself manifest, falsehood 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 45 
 
 must be false to itself, and will turn upon and destroy 
 itself. The sham-king Lear must have his semblance 
 stripped away, and be reduced to what he really is. 
 Goneril upbraids him to his face and proposes to di- 
 minish his train of knights ; she in every respect treats 
 him as a shadow. She knows and states precisely the 
 contradiction in his conduct : 
 
 Idle old man 
 That still would manage thoso authorities 
 That he hath given away. 
 
 He can not be semblance and at the same time pos 
 sess authority. Now she has the power to which she 
 has hitherto bowed while she was shadow. Lear's turn 
 is come, he must follow the logic of his situation. 
 Moreover he has banished his faithful daughter, why 
 should his daughters be faithful to him ? It is his own 
 deed returning upon him through his own family. 
 Nevertheless, Goneril's guilt is not diminished, she is 
 false to her agreement and undutiful to her parent. 
 
 But Lear will not receive any limitation without the 
 most terrific display of passion. A second time he 
 launches a curse against a daughter. He prays that she 
 may never have offspring, or if she have, that it may 
 be a monster. Therein he curses his own generation, 
 his imprecation is that his own tribe may perish. It is 
 fulfilled to the letter. For. the first time a limit has 
 been placed upon him which he could not sweep away, 
 with it he begins to see the wrong done to Cordelia, 
 with it too his mind begins to break down. "Let me 
 not be mad sweet heaven," is his pitiful utterance. 
 Hereupon he departs for his other daughter. 
 
 But this world of disguise is not one of utter false- 
 hood and wickedness, for fidelity is also here in disguise. 
 
46 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 1 
 We have already mentioned Kent, who takes service as 
 a menial, sincerity itself must be insincere, truth has to 
 assume the form of deception. To this pass has Lear re- 
 duced his whole court. If the honest man must become 
 dishonest in order to be true to his nature, what of the 
 naturally dishonest? Kent acts as servant to his master, 
 his duties are of the lower kind, he cannot appear as the 
 adviser of the king since the latter will suffer no advice. 
 He is messenger, and zealously defends the royal honor 
 against the malign attacks of Oswald who stands in pret- 
 ty much the same relation to Goneril, as he does to 
 Lear. 
 
 But the complete and conscious reflection of this 
 world is in the Fool. He too is in disguise, seems to 
 be what he is not, and thus is a true representative of 
 his age. But his peculiarity is that he sees beneath the 
 masks of all around him, and knows their acts and pur- 
 poses. He is the intellectual man, yet his intelligence 
 must also be disguised, hence it casts an inverted image. 
 The contradiction is that the wise man of the company 
 is the Fool. His theme is the folly of Lear's conduct, 
 he offers the latter a coxcomb, the symbol of his own 
 profession. Knowing the character of the two daugh- 
 ters, he sees the situation and anticipates the result. 
 He alone appears to adequately comprehend the act of 
 Lear in surrendering the kingdom, and he alone can as- 
 sume disguise sufficient to tell to the old King the nature 
 of that act without being banished. Thus wisdom at 
 the court of Lear dares look only through the mask of 
 folly, and good counsel take the form of nonsense. In 
 this way therefore, no insult or reproof is given to the 
 haughty old King, for when a fool says anything, it is 
 supposed to be foolish. But if the truth should assume 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 47 
 
 the form of grave advice, it would imply the lack of 
 wisdom on the part of the ruler. Hence the absolute 
 monarch has his critic, but he must take the form of a 
 fool, then the royal vanity is not touched. Thus it 
 will be seen that not only fidelity and truth, but even 
 intelligence must seem to be what they are not, when 
 semblance is the universal principle, and the Fool be- 
 comes a necessary part of this world of appearance. 
 
 Lear sets out for the second daughter, but there he 
 meets with even worse treatment. The fool foresaw 
 what the supposed wise man, the king, did not. The 
 dispositions of the two daughters are alike, "as a crab 
 to a crab," he in this comparison declares the result. 
 Goneril hastens to support her sister Regan, who in 
 strength of will seems to have been the weaker and less 
 aggressive of the two women, and strongly influenced 
 by her more determined sister. They put the messen- 
 ger of their father in the stocks, tjiey—togeth-er-slrip the 
 old King of the last vestige of royalty. The Fool states 
 thatTr7e~greatest folly is now fidelity, it were wisdom to 
 let go a great wheel running down hill ; still he will re- 
 main fool and faithful ; Lear struggles with himself to 
 curb his anger, he tries to suppress the rising of his 
 heart, the mother as he calls it, he prays for patience, he 
 does not curse Regan as he did Cordelia and Goneril. 
 Still his self-restraint is not adequate, his passion boils 
 over. He is now ready to submit to conditions which 
 he formerly rejected with scorn, but it is too late. Fi- 
 nally, when the last semblance of authority is torn from 
 him, and the shadow has fled, he becomes what he really 
 is, a private individual of the humblest kind. 
 
 "A poor, infirm, weak, despised old man." 
 
48 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 He is now conscious of his own condition, the deceit- 
 ful mirage no longer blinds his eyes. But with this ex- 
 ternal show and power, his mind has been so long and 
 so intimately connected, that the loss of the one in- 
 volves the loss of the other. "O fool, I shall go mad," 
 has been his poignant cry at every limitation. _ 
 
 But one step he will not take, he will not be depend- 
 ent upon his daughters. But they are the sovereigns, 
 nothing remains for Lear but to flee to the woods, to 
 the freedom of nature. This is the ground of the trans- 
 ition in the Third Act, for the entire world of institu- 
 tions has been closed against him, both Family and 
 State have cast him forth, what security then is possible 
 for the individual ? Lear therefore rushes out into the 
 rude elements, without civil protection, without shel- 
 ter, and finally without clothing. 
 
 But here too he has to encounter a conflict, namely 
 the storm. The elements assail him, and conspire with 
 his daughters for which he reproaches them with servil- 
 ity. Still he defies them, in fact he invokes them to blot 
 out the whole world which has become so utterly per- 
 verse and disordered. Now the show is all gone, "take 
 physic, pomp." The reality of what he is comes up to 
 his mind, he is ready to sympathize with the most 
 wretched. But what is this object which rises before 
 his eyes ? Low as Lear is himself, there is one person 
 still lower ; here he is, Edgar disguised as mad Tom. 
 Lear notices the difference, no human being shall be be- 
 neath him; "thou art the thing itself; unaccommo- 
 dated man is no more but such poor bare forked animal 
 as thou art ; off, off," and he tears away his garments. 
 He is now reduced to the natural individual, every pro- 
 duct of man's intelligence, from the highest institutions 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 49 
 
 to the humblest contrivances, even to clothing, he has 
 thrown away. In other words, he has banished the whole 
 content of his rational existence, the logical result must 
 be that he is irrational. From the king he has descended 
 to the animal. 
 
 All along he has given premonitions of insanity ; he 
 knows "that way madness lies." For these external con- 
 flicts have been accompanied with a corresponding in- 
 ternal conflict. He has always been struggling to bear 
 up against his own passion ; "Patience I need." He 
 who was unlimited in power now has every restraint put 
 upon him, till he reaches zero. The act of his two 
 daughters gets complete possession of thoughts, he tries 
 them for their deed in his wild delirium, he has lost his 
 relation to the outward world, his mind is eaten up with 
 its own conflicts. 
 
 Let us grasp the complete picture of this society and 
 its characters. First in order come Edgar and Lear, 
 now reduced to the same outward condition and from 
 the same general cause. Both have touched the very 
 bottom of human misery, both are in a deadly struggle 
 with the spiritual and with the physical world, with 
 quite the sum total of being. The Family has turned 
 against them, the State has driven them forth from its 
 protection, and Nature herself has assailed them with 
 her terrific forces. Such is the outcome of man in hos- 
 tility with institutions. Still neither Lear nor Edgar 
 are conquered, in spirit they hold out, are even defiant. 
 The unconquerable will, the subjective independence 
 of man could not be asserted against an opposition 
 more destructive. But Edgar is sane, his madness is 
 only simulated, while that of Lear is real. Lear has 
 been deprived of what constituted the innermost essence 
 
50 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 of his nature, namely the show of authority. But the 
 mind of Edgar had never become so interwoven with 
 his rank and power, that separation from them would 
 destroy it ; he is also young and supple, he can bend 
 without breaking. 
 
 Gloster is also present in these wild scenes, deeply 
 sympathetic with Lear, and incurring danger for the 
 sake of the old King. But his own sympathy con- 
 demns him ; before his eyes stands a man, his faithful 
 son, whom his wrong has reduced to a condition as mis- 
 erable as that of Lear. Every word which he speaks 
 against the unkind daughters is a judgment against him- 
 self. That judgment is executed upon him in a manner 
 which every humane feeling cries out to be too severe. 
 
 Kent, the picture of fidelity, will also be present 
 in the storm, for he must follow his master through 
 every grade of calamity. Still his fidelity must remain 
 in disguise, in order to accomplish itself; it dares not 
 even now to assume its native form. The world of ap- s 
 pearance has, however, reached its climax; it is rapidly 
 dissolving. Lear, its original source and supporter, 
 has himself become not merely the shadow of a king, 
 but the shadow of a man ; reason has taken its flight, 
 and the erect animal shape alone remains. 
 
 The Fool, too, is present in the tempest, trying to di- 
 vert the King from his thoughts, and to jest away his 
 approaching insanity. But it is to no purpose. Wis- 
 dom, though to effect its design it has assumed the 
 garb of folly, has not succeeded. The Fool therefore 
 drops out now, his function must cease when Lear is 
 no longer rational, but has himself turned fool. It 
 was his duty to reflect the acts of the King in their true 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 51 
 
 character, so that the latter might behold what he was 
 doing. When intelligence is gone, this is impossible. 
 
 There never was portrayed such a picture as this of 
 the Third Act ; it is the world turned upside down, mo- 
 rally, mentally, physically. To give it greater strength 
 and terror, the two threads of the action are now 
 brought together. There are the faithless, protected in 
 their wrongs by institutions, and sheltered by their pa- 
 laces from the, raging elements. There are the three 
 disguises, that of innocence, that of fidelity, that of 
 wisdom, seeking to be true to their own nature under 
 the most alien forms. Then there is the parent of 
 these false appearances, himself now the shadow of a 
 shadow. Finally there is the storm without, one of the 
 warring principles in itself, and at the same time sym- 
 bolical of the storm within. It is the perverted world, 
 it seems quite to reach the extreme negative point short 
 of annihilation. 
 
 The consequences of Lear's conduct and character now 
 are complete ; they have produced their legitimate 
 fruit. The semblance of absolute authority has van- 
 ished, he is now the humblest of mortals. At the same 
 time he has passed from sanity to madness. The un- 
 limited monarch has descended to the most narrow ex- 
 istence, has become, in fact, a beast of the forest. But 
 above all, his wrong against the Family has met with a 
 retribution which seems but too harsh and horrible. 
 The fate of Gloster, as before remarked, is in every es- 
 sential respect similar, for he, too, is sent forth an out- 
 cast, deprived of title and possessions, dazed, if not 
 crazed, by his misfortunes. The two threads have thus 
 been brought down to the time of the utter disruption 
 of the two families and of the punishment of the two 
 
5 a Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 parents. Now the reaction must be portrayed, which 
 will indicate and restore the shattered institutions of the 
 world, bring the false and guilty to justice, and make 
 the faithful and innocent triumphant. 
 
 We have reached in our analysis the second grand 
 movement of the play, which will depict the re-action 
 against the successful but guilty children, and will show 
 the completed retribution. The ethical world is lying 
 in ruins, falsehood is triumphant, honesty banished, all 
 moral ties destroyed, and the Family disrupted. Chaos 
 seems to have come again. But from this chaos the 
 elements are beginning to coalesce, which will restore 
 order and vindicate the shattered 'institutions of man's 
 rational nature. The faithful children were unjustly 
 cast off by their parents, and the latter have been pun- 
 ished for their wrong. But thus a new guilt has arisen, 
 that of the faithless children, whose punishment must 
 now also be portrayed. For, in their case, the same 
 law of retribution holds good which was observed in 
 the case of their parents. 
 
 But who are to be the instruments of their chastise- 
 ment ? The faithful children will return and seek to 
 avenge the wrongs and recover the rights of themselves 
 and of their parents. This attempt will constitute the 
 second movement : it is an attempt to restore the dis- 
 rupted Family. Thus the circle of the whole action is 
 complete; it begins with the wrong done to the faithful 
 children, and ends with putting into their hands the re- 
 tribution. But the effort will not be fully successful, 
 the parents can not be completely restored to their for- 
 mer condition, for their deed is essentially the same as 
 that of their faithless children. 
 
 In this second movement also there are two main 
 
Shakespeare 's Tragedies. 53 
 
 threads, though they are different from the two threads 
 of the first movement, which are composed of the fam- 
 ilies of Lear and Gloster. Now the faithless members 
 of both families coalesce, and also the faithful members 
 of both families are thrown together : Edmund unites 
 and works with Regan and Goneril on the one hand, 
 and on the other hand Edgar sympathizes with, if he 
 does not aid the party of Cordelia. These two. sides 
 collide, the faithless children are victorious in the ex- 
 ternal conflict, but the daughters perish in a struggle 
 between themselves, and Edmund falls in single combat 
 with his brother. 
 
 Beginning, therefore, with the first thread, we ob- 
 serve that it is composed of the faithful children, Edgar 
 and Cordelia, together with the groups of which each 
 one is the central figure. Both are similar in conduct 
 and character, both now bring aid and solace to their 
 afflicted parents who, however, have done them the 
 deepest wrong. But their fidelity never falters, their 
 duty cannot give way to revenge or indifference. Such 
 has been their action from the beginning, such it will re- 
 main to the end. Their profoundest principle is to be 
 true to the Family : Edgar to Gloster, Cordelia to 
 Lear. Restoration, internal and external, for their pa- 
 rents, is the great object of their endeavor. The two 
 fathers are to be brought back to their previous circum- 
 stances of honor and power, if possible ; at least, they 
 are to be solaced, comforted, and restored in mind. 
 Hence a great change is observable in this portion of 
 the drama. The tremendous upheavals of volcanic pas- 
 sion have ceased, and in their stead the tenderest emo- 
 tions of affection and pity stir the breast. The action 
 
54 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 becomes more quiet and more pathetic ; tears succeed 
 to wrath, loving devotion to ingratitude. 
 
 First, then, let us follow the group which mainly con- 
 sists of Edgar and his father. They are almost inde- 
 pendent through the whole of the second movement, 
 and can be easily separated from the rest of the action. 
 Edgar still retains the disguise of mad Tom ; he is 
 thinking of Lear, and prefers his own state, "better un- 
 known to be contemned, than still contemned and flat- 
 tered." He would chose the reality, however bitter, to 
 a false appearance, however agreeable, so deep is the 
 truth and sincerity of his character. But who is this 
 wretched, mutilated man who meets him here upon the 
 wild heath ? It is his father, Gloster, blind, fleeing 
 from the cruelty of his own son, accompanied by a 
 faithful tenant as a guide. The father's thoughts are 
 occupied about his injured child ; he is humbled to the 
 earth by his misfortunes, and still more by his own 
 deeds ; as in the case of Lear, calamity has a made his 
 sympathy universal, his heart is full of commiseration 
 for the poor and lowly, he thinks of the poor beggar 
 (who was the disguised Edgar) in the storm. But his 
 chief mental state consists in the belief that he is the 
 victim of an almighty yet cruel power above : 
 
 i "As flies to wanton boys, are we to the Gods, | ', 
 : | They kill us for their sport." 
 
 Such a creed is the fruit of his superstition, of his 
 belief in external determination. For if God be the 
 immediate cause, then misfortune can only be Divine 
 persecution, and hope is impossible. It therefore lies 
 deep in the characters of Lear and Gloster that the one 
 ends in insanity, the other in despair. 
 
 Gloster therefore wishes to end the unequal contest 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 55 
 
 by ending his own existence, and hence his desire is to 
 reach the precipice of Dover. But it is the object of 
 Edgar, who now acts as his leader instead of the aged 
 tenant, to rescue him from despair and to reconcile him 
 again with the world. Then will follow the disclosure 
 of the disguised son, when the father can endure the 
 recognitiin. Consequently Edgar practices an artifice 
 upon the old, blind man — makes him believe that he 
 has fallen down the lofty cliff, that he has been pre- 
 served by the miraculous interposition of the Gods, that, 
 in fine, he must be the object of their special care and 
 protection. It is true that the son skillfully makes use 
 of his father's weakness, namely, superstition, to effect 
 his pious purpose ; this motive is particularly apparent 
 in the description of the fiend whose eyes 
 
 "Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses, 
 Horns whelked and waved like the enridged sea; 
 It was some fiend" 
 
 and truly it was a fiend, despair, which lured him to the 
 precipice. ButGloster is cured, he is now ready to ac- 
 cept life anew, and to endure every species of affliction ; 
 he seems also to abandon his notion of a Divine perse- 
 cution directed against himself. 
 
 Gloster again meets Lear, mad, roaming at large over 
 the country, though Cordelia is seeking to get posses- 
 sion of his person in order to restore him. It is the 
 last time that the two ill-fated parents come together, 
 both have touched the lowest depths of misfortune, 
 both are now found and cared for by the children to 
 whom they have done the greatest injustice. Finally 
 Edgar performs the highest filial act, he saves his father 
 from death at the hands of Oswald and slays the assas- 
 sin. Thus he has rescued the mind within from de- 
 
56 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 spair, and preserved the body without from destruction. 
 He may hence be said to have restored his parent to 
 existence ; filial duty now reaches in him its climax. 
 But the roar of battle is heard around them ; Edgar 
 puts his father in a place of safety and goes out to ob- 
 serve the result of the conflict. He does not seem to 
 have participated in the fight, he keeps aloof from the 
 collision with the State, and hence is preserved at the 
 end of the play. The great end of all his efforts is the 
 personal security and mental repose of his parent. 
 
 Finally the son reveals himself, can we wonder that 
 the old blind father could not support the conflict, 
 could not endure the joy and the grief of the recogni- 
 tion ? Gloster, therefore, can not be restored to the 
 Family whose essence he has so deeply violated, his 
 heart breaks in the process, his emotional nature can not 
 bear up under the contradictory feelings of his situation. 
 His inability to make this transition is the logical ne- 
 cessity of his character. Gloster is not a bad, but a weak 
 man. He has unwittingly been made the instrument of 
 the disruption of his own family. Hence, if he be re- 
 stored to it, there is the same possibility of his disrupt, 
 ing it again, for this result is the fruit of his intellectual 
 weakness. It should also be observed that Edgar is no 
 longer the unsophisticated youth who was so com- 
 pletely outwitted by the Bastard. He has learned to 
 disguise himself and to assume a wonderful variety of 
 characters; the number and skill of the deceptions 
 which he practices upon his father to accomplish the 
 most unselfish and pious ends, are startling to the rigid 
 moralist. His education has been severe but thorough, 
 and when he now comes to meet Edmund, he is pre- 
 pared. 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 57 
 
 Gloster the efore perishes, the victim of his faithless 
 son, who in his turn must meet with retribution. To 
 Edgar remains this final duty of destroying the instru- 
 ment of destruction, a negative but necessary result of 
 his principle. For that principle is the restoration of 
 the disrupted family, which, however, since the death 
 of Gloster is impossible ; but the cause of the disrup- 
 tion as well as of his own wrongs still exists and must 
 be removed. Thus Edgar, though declaring openly the 
 primal guilt of his father, slays his illegitimate brother. 
 The leading element of his character is fidelity to 
 Family, here in the form of devotion to parent, whose 
 enemies he destroys and whose mind he rescues from 
 despair. 
 
 Similar is the purpose and also the character of Cor- 
 delia, who is the main figure in the second group of this 
 first thread, which group we are now ready to consider. 
 She, too, is the faithful, yet injured child; she, too, 
 seeks the internal and external restoration of her father. 
 But she goes a step further than Edgar, she assails the 
 State in her attempt to recover the rights of Lear. She 
 thus falls into guilt which leads to the most fatal conse- 
 quences. Her endeavor has three different phases, re- 
 storation of her parent to reason, to Family, and to 
 State. 
 
 First of all, the attempt must be made to cure the 
 insanity of Lear. He seems to be wandering alone 
 over the country, without care or guidance; his talk, 
 though wild and incoherent, is mainly connected with 
 his lost authority, with the cruelty of his daughters and 
 in general with the utter perversity of the ethical world 
 which he, in his raving mood, scoffs at and condemns 
 with sarcastic bitterness. The Poet has thus intimated 
 
58 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 the cause of his madness, as well as the means of its 
 cure: restore him to a daughter's love and to the im- 
 age of respect and power, and the ground of his 
 insanity is removed. These are just the spiritual med- 
 icines which Cordelia administers to him after sufficient 
 physical repose ; in the pathetic scene when he awakens, 
 she asks for his blessing with the deepest affection, and 
 assures him that he is again in his own kingdom. Lear 
 is thus restored to reason and to Family with its love, 
 the original cause of madness is taken away. 
 
 It is manifest that Cordelia is different from what she 
 was in the First Act; a new element of her nature 
 seems to have developed itself. Previously we saw her 
 rigid moral code and her intellectuality brought into the 
 greatest prominence ; now her character in its softer 
 and more beautiful features is shown, we behold her de- 
 votion to parent as well as her intense emotional nature, 
 which, however, she is able to keep under perfect con- 
 trol. Still the germ of this new trait can be- found in 
 her earlier declarations and demeanor. In the first 
 scene, that of the partition, she repeatedly expresses 
 her affection for her father : 
 
 "What shall Cordelia speak? Love and be silent," etc. 
 
 It is not merely the physical repose prescribed by the 
 doctor which clears up the clouded intellect of Lear, it 
 -is the presence of Cordelia who brings with her a double 
 restoration, that of subjective affection on the one hand 
 and that of objective institutions on the other. It was 
 the loss of these, through the conduct of Regan and 
 Goneril, which shattered his reason ; sanity therefore 
 returns with the return of Cordelia. 
 
 But her third purpose is that which ruins her cause. 
 She brings a French army into England to secure to her 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 59 
 
 father his right, as she says, by which she evidently 
 means, to place him again on the throne. She thus as- 
 sails the highest ethical institution of man, the State, and 
 unwittingly commits herself the greatest wrong. More- 
 over Lear had resigned his power, and divided his King- 
 dom ; he had no longer any just claim to the crown. 
 Her invasion of the country rouses up against her the 
 head of the State, Albany, who was otherwise favorable 
 both to her and to Lear. But he had to defend his 
 own realm, though he hates his associates, and loves 
 those who are fighting against him. Had Cordelia been 
 satisfied with the restoration of her father to his reason 
 and to his family, Albany would have given her both 
 aid and sympathy. However much we may admire her 
 character and regret her fate, however indignant we 
 may be against her two sisters, still we must in the end 
 say, she did wrong, she violated the majesty of the State, 
 in her affection for parent she attempted to destroy the 
 higher principle for sake of the lower. The result is, 
 she loses the battle, is taken prisoner and perishes. 
 
 The death of Cordelia is often felt to be unjustifiable, 
 and the play was once altered to suit this feeling. But 
 a true comprehension of the nature of Dramatic Art 
 will vindicate the Poet. The end of Tragedy is not that 
 somebody get killed, or even that a villain be brought 
 to justice; it must show the collision of two ethical 
 principles, both of which have validity in the reason of 
 man. The individuals who are the representatives of 
 these conflicting principles are brought into a struggle 
 which admits of no mediation; both, from one point 
 of view, are in the right, and yet both from another 
 point of view are in the wrong; the deeper, more uni- 
 versal thought must decide the conflict, and triumph in 
 
60 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 the end, for strife can not be eternal. Cordelia's pro- 
 foundest impulse is devotion to Family, a very lofty 
 principle of action; but 'she is led by it into a collision 
 with the State, a still higher principle. Undoubtedly 
 these two elements ought to be harmonized, if possible ; 
 but Tragedy means that they cannot always be har- 
 monized, and hence the lesser must be subordinated by 
 violence and by death. 
 
 Cordelia is therefore a truly tragic character, whom 
 we are compelled to condemn, though we shed tears 
 over her fate. But she is something more, she is the 
 tragic female character, for her collision is peculiar to her 
 sex. The Family is the highest ethical principle of 
 woman as woman; at least it has been hitherto in the 
 history of the world, even though we may think that 
 this state of things will be changed in the future. The 
 readers of her own sex therefore will always feel, per- 
 haps ought always to feel that she is in the right, that 
 her death is unjustifiable. Let us contrast her action 
 with that of Albany who is a man and holds to the other 
 principle, the State. He too is indignant at the con- 
 duct of Goneril and Regan, he sympathizes deeply with 
 the misfortunes of Lear, and wishes well to the efforts 
 of Cordelia for the restoration of her father. But a 
 French army means the ruin of his country, at least its 
 control from without, he therefore is compelled to make 
 the choice, he takes the State as his ethical principle, 
 though he has to act with those whom he hates, and 
 against those whom he loves. Albany and Cordelia 
 hence collide ; it is the collision of man and woman, 
 both of whom are the representatives of the essential 
 ethical principles of their respective sexes. It is also to 
 a certain extent the collision between emotion and 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 61 
 
 reason. Our feelings go along with Cordelia, even Al- 
 bany's feelings went along with Cordelia, for the Fam- 
 ily is the realm of affection and must always call forth 
 the emotions of man ; still intelligence must control 
 sentiment, and subordinate it to the higher end. The 
 consequences of their actions are seen in the catastrophe ; 
 Cordelia perishes, while Albany survives as the ruler of 
 his country. 
 
 But our next anxious inquiry is concerning the fate 
 of Lear. He has recovered from insanity through his 
 daughter's love ; what will be his condition, now that 
 she is gone ?• He relapses momentarily into madness; 
 but this is not the end: he can not again be disrupted 
 from the Family. His affection for Cordelia is most 
 intense, he cares not for prison and captivity, if she 
 only be with him, her presence has become to him life 
 itself. Hence when he is convinced that she is dead, 
 his heart breaks over her corpse, an end similar to that 
 of Gloster. The first disruption of Lear's domestic 
 ties cost him his reason, the second now costs him his 
 life. It is however, his own primal wrong which 
 reaches through the whole play and at last strikes the 
 fatal blow. Such is the first thread with its two very 
 similar groups of faithful children. 
 
 There remains finally the second thread of the second 
 movement to be considered. The faithless children of 
 both families have come together, similarity of charac- 
 ter naturally attracts them to one another. Edmund and 
 the two sisters therefore constitute the heads of this 
 group, to which also Albany must be added, though he 
 only belongs to it partially. An external conflict has 
 arisen with Cordelia, the nature and grounds of which 
 have already been given ; in it they were successful, as 
 
62 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 they happened to be the supporters of the State in con- 
 junction with Albany. But the internal conflict has also 
 arisen, as it must arise under the circumstances. The 
 unity of the faithless can not be permanent, they must 
 be true to the deepest principle of their character, and 
 hence must be faithless to one another. This gives the 
 struggle among themselves, which the poet has also de- 
 veloped, to make the delineation logical and complete. 
 The two sisters have become fired with the most in- 
 tense jealousy and enmity in their endeavors to obtain 
 the love of Edmund ; they are playing false to each 
 other, and Edmund is playing false to both. The prin- 
 ciple of them all is falsehood, what else can be expect- 
 ed but mutual treachery ? But Goneril and Regan are 
 now shown in a further yet very consistent development 
 of character: their faithlessness becomes universal. 
 Having been faithless to their father, they naturally 
 become faithless to the Family in all its relations ; 
 hence they are now portrayed as violating the great fun- 
 damental virtue of the Family, chastity. Infidelity to- 
 ward parent is deepened into infidelity toward husband, 
 and the very possibility of any ethical ties is annihilated. 
 Their former conduct has therefore adequately mo- 
 tived this final development. For them every condition 
 of the Family is destroyed, daughterhood has long since 
 perished, now wifehood passes away. Union with them 
 is impossible, even for the Bastard, as he himself inti- 
 mates. What remains ? Only Death, for every substan- 
 tial element of existence is gone. Goneril, always the 
 prime mover, destroys her sister with poison, as before 
 she brought ruin upon her father ; and when she knows 
 that her intrigue with Edmund is discovered by her 
 husband, she speedilv thrusts a dagger into her own 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 63 
 
 bosom. Such is the end of the two faithless sisters; 
 both perished in a struggle with each other for the pos- 
 session of an infamous villain who was faithless to both. 
 
 But Edmund remains, his success has been without a 
 parallel, he may well believe that his lucky destiny can- 
 not be arrested. Hitherto he has obtained all the hon- 
 ors, titles, and property of the family of Gloster ; now 
 his object is the possession of the State. He fights 
 bravely against the French invasion for a crown which 
 he regards as his own, and to remove every obstacle 
 which might arise in his path after the victory, he orders 
 Lear and Cordelia to be put to death. This conduct 
 brings him into direct conflict with Albany the present 
 head of the 5tate, whose life he has before sought to 
 destroy. But Albany according to the spirit of the 
 play can not be his slayer ; this can only be his brother 
 Edgar whose father he has deceived, betrayed and out- 
 raged, and who therefore now appears as the avenger of 
 the Family. The Poet is thus careful to make the first 
 wrong of Edmund to return and to involve him in its in- 
 exhorable retribution. The Bastard in the course of 
 his career has assailed quite all the ethical institutions 
 of man ; he believed that the world was entirely con- 
 trolled by management, and not by principle; hence his 
 sole faith was in his own subjective cunning. His fate, 
 though long deferred, is the necessary consequence of 
 such a character ; some one armed with the vengeance 
 of violated right destroys him. Such is the outcome of 
 the three faithless children. 
 
 The conduct and fate of Kent in this second move- 
 ment seem to be left somewhat indefinite. The Poet, 
 however, carefully informs us that it is so intended : 
 
64 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 "3ome dear cause 
 Will in concealment wrap me up a while." 
 
 No active participation in the war is manifested by 
 him, though he visits the camp of Cordelia. His de- 
 votion appears now to be to Lear as an individual ; 
 still the drama indicates little one way or the other. 
 Some critics have even imagined that his death is given 
 in the play, but this is certainly a mistake and also a 
 misunderstanding. The truth is, the Poet wishes to 
 preserve all the faithful ; but to do so consistently, he 
 must keep them out of the collision with the State 
 which was the fatal deed of Cordelia. Hence the con- 
 duct of both Kent and Edgar in regard to the war is 
 left in obscurity, though their devotion is still brought 
 forward in the strongest light. They therefore survive 
 with Albany who defends the State and yet at the same 
 time respects the Family. 
 
 The action has now completed its revolution and 
 brought back to all the leading characters the conse- 
 quences of their, deeds ; the double guilt and the double 
 retribution have been fully portrayed. The treatment 
 of children by parents and of parents by children is the 
 theme ; both fidelity and infidelity are shown in their 
 most extreme manifestation. Two families are taken, 
 that of the monarch and that of the subject; the former 
 develops within itself its own collisions, free from any 
 external restraint, and hence exhibits the truest and 
 most complete result; the latter is largely influenced 
 and determined in its course by authority, but an au- 
 thority which is itself poisoned with domestic conflict. 
 The exhaustiveness of the treatment is worthy of care- 
 ful study ; Regan is faithless to parent, Goneril is faith- 
 less to both parent and husband, Cordelia is true to 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 65 
 
 both, yet assails another ethical principle, the State. 
 The two sons and the two sons-in-law exhibit also dis- 
 tinct phases of the domestic tie; they are still further 
 divided by the fundamental theme of the play into the 
 faithful and faithless ; that is, a son and a son-in-law 
 belong to each side. But it is a curious fact that one 
 very important relation of the Family is wholly omit- 
 ted ; no mother appears anywhere ; sonhood, daughter- 
 hood, wifehood, fatherhood are all present, but the ten- 
 derest bond of existence, motherhood, is wanting. The 
 Poet evidently does not need it, for the action is al- 
 ready sufficiently full and complicated ; perhaps too the 
 character of the mother may be supposed to re-appear 
 in some of her children, as for example in Cordelia, who 
 is so different from her father. But one cannot help 
 commending the true instinct, or it may be judgment, 
 which keeps such a mild and tender relation out of the 
 cauldron of passion and ingratitude which seethes with 
 such destructive energy in this appalling drama. 
 
 D. J. SNIDER. 
 
SHAKESPEARE'S TRAGEDIES. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 This play is one of the least celebrated among 
 Shakespeare's works. The theme itself is not the 
 most attractive, and its treatment must be pronounced 
 to be in many respects unsatisfactory. The inequality 
 of its execution will be acknowledged by every careful 
 reader ; some parts are wrought out with the greatest 
 skill and completeness, others are hastily and rudely 
 sketched, while certain necessary links seem to be 
 omitted altogether. The versification is often a mys- 
 tery, and the prose frequently appears to be written 
 with exceeding carelessness. To account for these im- 
 perfections, conjecture has been very busy if not very 
 satisfactory.' A supposition is, that it was originally 
 one of the Poet's most perfect works, but was ruined by 
 the various mutilations of the actors, or possibly of the 
 printers, or of the copyists. Another supposition is, 
 that it was based upon an older drama by a different au- 
 thor, which was partially re modelled by Shakespeare. 
 Again, an opinion has been advanced that the Poet lost 
 to a large extent his art in one period of his career, 
 and that Timon is a work of that period. It has also 
 been held to be an imperfect second edition of a youth- 
 ful product of Shakespeare. All these conjectures are 
 confessedly without any historical basis, and merely 
 seek to imagine some external ground for the incom- 
 plete character of the drama ; as far as its comprehen- 
 sion is concerned, they furnish no aid, and hence may 
 
68 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 be passed by without further discussion. There is, 
 however, a very popular theory which attempts to ac- 
 count for the selection of this subject by the Poet. It 
 is supposed that Shakespeare from some unknown cause 
 became disgusted with society and men, and gave ex- 
 pression to his misanthropic feelings in the present 
 work, and to a less degree in some other works. But 
 nothing can be more unwarrantable than to infer that 
 the expresssion of any of his characters are the real opin- 
 ions of the man Shakespeare. He undoubtedly com- 
 prehended Timon, but it is hard to believe that he was 
 Timon, even for a short period. In fact, the tragic fate 
 of the latter rather goes to show that the Poet wished 
 to give a warning against the danger of misanthropy, 
 instead of being a misanthrope himself. The univer- 
 sality of his genius precludes the possibility of limiting 
 him to any one character. 
 
 But it is a wearisome and profitless labor to chase 
 down conjecture ; let us pass to the more useful task of 
 comprehending the drama. This is, as previously 
 stated, defective in execution, but its conception is in 
 every way Shakesperian. To unfold this conception is 
 the object of the present essay. The relation of the in- 
 dividual and of society to property and the conflicts 
 which arise therefrom constitute the fundamental 
 theme of the play. For property is also an ethical 
 principle, not the highest by any means, perhaps the 
 lowest, still an ethical principle, to violate which within 
 its sphere is guilt, and not to subordinate which outside 
 of its sphere is also guilt. A person therefore who dis- 
 regards it utterly and a person who esteems it as the 
 highest end, may both of them become involved in a 
 tragic destiny. These two forms occur in the present 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 69 
 
 work. Shakespeare has here introduced a principle of 
 the ethical world which is found in none of his other 
 plays. 
 
 Perhaps this idea of property may give some difficul- 
 ty and ought to be scanned a little further. Property 
 is the beginning of an ethical order of things, and its 
 necessary condition ; in property man first beholds and 
 respects the right of his fellow-man, and has in turn his 
 own right respected; without property person, in prim- 
 itive times at least, has no true reality, is a slave or a 
 being without rights. It is the progress of the world's 
 history which has secured right to person independent 
 of property. But a man who ignores or denies the 
 right of property in a civilized society, must become un- 
 ethical and hostile to all institutions, if he carries out 
 his doctrine to its consequences. Hence the Commu- 
 nist starts with assailing this primary principle and ends 
 with the destruction of all social order.. But the other 
 side also ought always to be taken into account. Prop- 
 erty though itself an ethical principle, may come into 
 collision with other and higher ethical principles. The 
 unbridled pursuit of gain leads to the most fearful cor- 
 ruption and can result in the destruction of the virtue, 
 of the greatness, and indeed of the existence of a nation. 
 The unlimited right of property too may beget and pro- 
 tect the direst wrong, oppression, and even slavery. It 
 is just this conflict in the ethical world which the Poet, 
 true to his conception of Art, has made the basis of his 
 drama. 
 
 Let us now unfold in a brief statement the structure 
 of the work. There are two very distinct threads in 
 which the action centers ; they may be called the thread 
 of Timon and the thread of Alcibiades. Both these 
 
70 Shakespeare' s Tragedies. 
 
 persons are in a conflict with the society in which they 
 live as respects property ; that society is devoted pri- 
 marily to the acquisition of wealth, yet with a decided 
 relish for gratification of the senses. Timon is the gen- 
 erous prodigal who spends his own and other people's 
 money, Alcibiades is the active soldier who despises 
 the pursuit of gain and lives for a wholly different end. 
 There are also two parts or movements of the play. 
 The first part extends to the time when both Timon 
 and Alcibiades take their departure from Athens on ac- 
 count of the above-mentioned conflict ; a money-getting 
 society drives them away. The second part depicts the 
 conduct of these two persons in exile; Timon becomes 
 a misanthropist, turns against all mankind as a proper- 
 ty-acquiring race, and finally perishes, it would seem by 
 suicide ; Alcibiades, the soldier and man of action, re- 
 turns with an army, humiliates and punishes his coun- 
 try for its wrongs. Thereby it is also indicated that 
 the nation can no longer defend itself, but is sapped 
 within by its exclusive pursuit of property. 
 
 The first of these threads, that of Timon, is by far 
 the more important and prominent ; it exhibits in its 
 development the most wonderful contrast, for it por- 
 trays the transition from a boundless benevolence to 
 the deepest hatred of man, and from a life of luxury to 
 a life of abject but self-imposed wretchedness. Its two 
 factors are, Timon and the society around him. This 
 society is first drawn in the most lively colors, its va- 
 rious classes are all represented in the picture, with the 
 same fundamental trait of character. The artists are 
 here in the persons of the Painter and Poet, both of 
 whom are ready to lay their offerings at the feet of 
 Timon — for a consideration. Art is thus in the pur- 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 71 
 
 suit of gain, and seeks it at the hands of patronage. 
 But the Poet gives some honest counsel along with his 
 flattery, he sings of the fickleness of Fortune, and warns 
 Timon that all those who now seem to be friends, will 
 drop off at the first blow of adversity. His little poem 
 therefore is a kind of programme, and foreshadows the 
 course of the play. The commercial world has also its 
 representatives present in the Merchant and Jeweller, 
 the latter of whom especially has a sharp eye for busi- 
 ness; he knows how to put his wares where they will 
 bring several times their value. Presents of grey- 
 hounds, of milk-white steeds, pour in from thrifty 
 lords who expect and receive a triple return for their 
 gifts. Finally Senators, the representatives of the 
 State, and hence the most important personages of the 
 time lend their presence to this carnival of parasites. 
 They also appear as the chief usurers and extortioners 
 of an extortionate nation. The fundamental conscious- 
 ness of all these people is the same : love of gain, pur- 
 suit of property regardless of honesty or honor. Even 
 the old Athenian seems to be a tvpe of the ordinary 
 
 citizen : 
 
 "I am a man 
 That from my first have been inclined to thrift." 
 
 He barters away the hand of his daughter to a ser- 
 vant, for a sum of money which is given by Timon. 
 
 Next to the desire of wealth comes the love of sen- 
 suous enjoyment, which is also furnished to these peo- 
 ple by Timon. A number of idle lords and sycophants 
 surround him for no other purpose than to share his 
 bounty. Dinners are dispensed with unsparing liber- 
 ality, masques, dances, music, make his house one con- 
 tinued scene of enchanting pleasures. "The five best 
 senses acknowledge thee their patron," says the dis- 
 
72 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 guised Cupid. It is a life immersed in the senses with- 
 out conscience or honor, and is the usual accompani- 
 ment of material pursuits. But Timon is soon to be 
 disagreeably shaken out of his dream. Sunk in enjoy- 
 ment, he has permitted his property, vast as it was, to 
 melt into nothing, and with it he too must vanish from 
 the scene. 
 
 But this society so selfish and sensual, has naturally 
 produced its opposite; here is the example, Apeman- 
 tus the cynic. This character really belongs to history, 
 to the days of the ancient Greek and Roman world in 
 its decline and corruption. We now behold an indi- 
 vidual who instead of gratifying the senses abuses them 
 and thrusts from him all the reasonable comforts of 
 life. To the flatterer succeeds the scoffer, to abject ser- 
 vility succeeds intentional discourtesy. The love of 
 property has no place in his breast, on the contrary he 
 has become the hater of men from their pursuit of gain. 
 He is just the person to expose the rotten condition of 
 society, because he contemns it so deeply. His main 
 function in the play is therefore to reflect the age in its 
 negative phases. He holds up to Timon, for whom 
 alone he seems to have some affection, the consequen- 
 ces of prodigality ; he speaks openly and bitterly, ex- 
 posing the flattery and treachery of the whole crowd 
 of followers. But not alone to Timon but also to all 
 persons with whom he comes in contact, he tells with 
 stinging satire what they are ; he is the mirror which 
 reflects the inner character of each individual of the 
 company. Thus amid all this hollow formality, the 
 real spirit is shown; a man may utter his polite 
 phrases, but Apemantus is there to cast his true image. 
 Moreover, Apemantus is now the picture of that which 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 73 
 
 Timon is destined to become, namely, the misanthrope. 
 Still another trait must be added which, however, ap- 
 pears with distinctness only in the latter part of the 
 drama. It is the vein of affectation which lies deep in 
 the character of Apemantus, his cynicism is largely the 
 result of vanity and not ot conviction. Insincerity 
 must thus attach to him in a certain degree, and he is a 
 true member of this false and dissembling Athenian 
 world. 
 
 Such is the society, now we are prepared to consider 
 the character of Timon who is for a time its central 
 figure. His fundamental trait is, the lack of all notion 
 of property ; with this one element are connected his 
 other qualities, good and bad. Generosity, strong af- 
 fection, honesty, are some of his virtues ; prodigality, 
 Jove of flattery and pleasure, borrowing money and 
 running in debt are the most of his weaknesses. His 
 principle is that his friends should share his wealth 
 equally with himself, he tells them that they are more 
 welcome to his fortune than he is himself. A sort of 
 communism is thus broached by him, and in his ex- 
 ceeding generosity he quite abjures the idea of property. 
 To retain is not his nature : "there's none can truly 
 say he gives if he receives." This principle is manifest- 
 ly one-sided and can only bring its followers to ruin. 
 What is given out must come back in one way or 
 another, else the source ceases to flow. But Timon 
 will only give, and so hands over his entire fortune to 
 the enjoyment of his friends. He becomes the victim 
 of sharpers, who with pretended affection send him their 
 presents knowing that they will receive something far 
 more valuable in return. His property is therefore es- 
 sentially abandoned ; it may be compared to a dead or- 
 
74 Shakespeare' s Tragedies. 
 
 ganism which every creeping thing is busily consuming 
 and carrying away. 
 
 Timon excites our admiration by his lofty enthu- 
 siasm and by his noble striving after an ideal life, in 
 which all things are common and all men are brothers. 
 But such a principle is an absurdity, an impossibility, 
 for it rests upon a one-sided view of human nature. 
 Man must be individual to be man, he cannot be ab- 
 sorbed into a universal humanity. Society also is 
 based on the fact that each member of it seeks to own, 
 that is, to acquire and to retain. One contributes his 
 labor in order to get in return and to keep as much as 
 is reasonable. The consciousness of Timon is contrary 
 to the organization of society, which cannot rest on 
 spending but on obtaining. As everybody else is seek- 
 ing to acquire and retain, Timon must soon be deprived 
 of his property. It is at this point that we can see the 
 ethical guilt of Timon ; his principle and his conduct 
 are logically destructive of society. 
 
 But there is one class which remains honest and faith- 
 ful in this corrupt community, the servants of Timon, 
 his own household shares in his true nature. Flavius, 
 his steward, has also warned him of the consequences of 
 his conduct, has done everything to stem the tide of 
 extravagance, and is in fact, the most rational character 
 in the drama. It is a contrast between the high and 
 the low, integrity and honor have taken refuge in the 
 humblest class of the people. Thus there still remains 
 a sound part of society, though the top is rotten ; there 
 is still a source from which a new life is possible. But 
 it is only one bright and small ray in a very dark pic- 
 ture. 
 
 The incidents may now be noticed in rapid' succes- 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. y e 
 
 sion. The money has run out, no more can be bor- 
 rowed, the faithful steward is in the greatest embarrass- 
 ment. The usurers have become alarmed for the safety 
 of their loans, a crowd of importunate servants throng 
 Timon's doors to collect their master's debts. He 
 now wakes up to the bitter situation, he has no land, 
 no money,, no credit, yet has incurred many obligations. 
 But he is certain of his friends, they will be ready to 
 advance him whatever sums he may need. Still he 
 learns on the spot, of the refusal of the Senators to aid 
 him, but he thinks that their blood is caked and cold 
 with age ; he will now apply to his warm and younger 
 friends. Thus Timon has been compelled to abandon 
 his principle of not receiving. He has hitherto disre- 
 garded property, now property makes itself felt. His 
 ideal communistic dreams have vanished in his pressing 
 emergency. 
 
 But what will be the result of this application for 
 money ? Requests to grant a loan are sent around to 
 his friends ; one tries to bribe the servant to report not 
 having seen him ; another has just lent out all his 
 funds; Sempronius has a double reason for refusal, he 
 won't furnish anything because he is applied to first, 
 then he won't furnish anything because he is applied -to 
 last. Amid these various pretexts the truth also leaks 
 out: "this is no time to lend money, especially upon 
 bare friendship, without security." Such do Timon's 
 friends turn out in the hour of need. Nothing else 
 could have been expected from the beginning, for their 
 highest end is and has been property, friendship was 
 only a means. He imagined that others will be to him 
 as he was to them ; but the rest of society is seeking 
 ownership, hence he is rejected on all sides even by those 
 
76 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 who are under the greatest obligations to him. The 
 result is, Timon spends all his money and is left help- 
 less. He began with a large fortune which he did not 
 acquire, hence he does not know the significance of 
 property. It is also a curious but natural trait that all 
 these friends claim to have warned Timon against his 
 reckless prodigality; the comforting "I told you so," 
 is the sole coin sent back to their needy benefactor. 
 
 The crowd of creditors becomes larger and noisier, 
 Timon's door is besieged by them as by enemies. The 
 very men who are most clamorous for their money, are 
 those who have enjoyed his bounty and shared his hos- 
 pitality. They now demand pay for the gifts which 
 they have in their own possession and present the bill 
 for the dinners which they have themselves eaten. The 
 bitter conviction comes upon Timon that his whole 
 life has been based on a deception, friends are not 
 friends, all is false and hollow. Still he by no means 
 believes his principle to be incorrect, it is only too good 
 for mankind; hence he will not abandon his principle 
 but will abandon mankind. He has learned the fact 
 that the pursuit of the individual in a social system 
 must be to a large extent to gain and to own ; property 
 is the foundation. Timon therefore flies from society 
 and goes to the forest. He will not dwell with his spe- 
 cies in an organization so hostile to his conviction, he 
 will henceforth live alone, and because men are just the 
 opposite of himself, he will become the man-hater. For 
 it is man who has organized the system of property and 
 exists through its mediation. Such is the ground for the 
 grand and striking transition of the drama, which por- 
 trays a human being passing from the warmest feelings 
 of benevolence to the most intense hatred of his fellow- 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 77 
 
 creatures. Once more he will invite his former friends 
 to a feas\ ; they come with fawning apologies and glut- 
 tonous anticipation ; he is fully confirmed in his bitter 
 judgment. The dishes are uncovered, they are full of 
 warm water. It is Timon's sole retaliation for their 
 deception ; in burning words he tells them their true 
 character; involving in one common curse his guests, 
 his country and all humanity, he departs for the woods. 
 
 On looking back at the conduct of Timon and of the 
 society around him, it will be manifest that both have 
 committed wrong in regard to property. Timon has 
 disregarded it wholly as an ethical principle, the logical 
 consequence of his actions would be social disruption. 
 It is true that no law can prevent a man from squan- 
 dering his substance, no more than it can prevent him 
 from committing suicide ; yet both acts are violations 
 of right in its true sense. That Timon's wrong is 
 mainly committed against himself can not change its 
 nature. But he also borrows and spends what belongs 
 to others, hence his offense extends beyond himself. 
 And on the other hand it will be equally manifest that 
 the society in which Timon lives is violating all ethical 
 principle in its exclusive pursuit of wealth ; it seems 
 to acknowledge no other end of existence but to make 
 money ; through fraud and treachery it seeks to obtain 
 what really belongs to another. Thus amid its o'ther 
 delinquencies it also violates the right of property, 
 though in just the opposite manner to that of Timon. 
 
 The second thread of the first movement is to be 
 next considered, namely that of Alcibiades. It also 
 portrays the collision with this wealth-acquiring society, 
 but in a new phase. Alcibiades is the man of action and 
 hence very different from Timon who is essentially a 
 
78 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 theoretical enthusiast, though the latter also is repre- 
 sented as having been in the service of the State for a 
 time. Such is the contrast between the two men, yet 
 both are alike in their disregard of gain. Alcibiades 
 we first meet at the house of Timon, he is a soldier, not 
 rich, but he has certain decided notions of honor; next 
 he is seen before the Senate, pleading for the life of a 
 friend who has been condemned to death for killing an 
 enemy ; he urges the honorable nature of the conflict, 
 his friend's and his own services to the country ; the 
 Senate however will not listen to such a plea but ad- 
 here to the strictness of the law, for which conduct 
 they can not be blamed. But on account of a hasty 
 word they also banish Alcibiades, the only man among 
 them whose object was not wealth, but the protection 
 of the State. His sense of honor and his end in life 
 the usurious Senate can not appreciate ; reproaching 
 them with their avarice he departs from Athens, vowing 
 vengeance against the city ; from the defender of his 
 country he has become its enemy, a change quite paral- 
 lel to that of Timon. Thus the one-sided pursuit of 
 property has ended in the destruction of its sole bul- 
 wark ; the brave soldier is gone who : 
 
 " Kept back their foes 
 
 While they have told their money, and let out 
 
 Their coin upon large interest." 
 
 Such seems to be the signification of this thread in 
 its relation to the rest of the play ; though the connec- 
 tion must be confessed to be very loose and by no 
 means fully developed. The result of the entire first 
 movement is now before us. The Athenian world, by 
 making property the highest end of existence, has de- 
 stroyed its improvement from within and its protection 
 from without ; it has reduced the enthusiastic lover of 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 79 
 
 mankind to misanthropy and despair, it has turned 
 its greatest general into the most deadly enemy. 
 
 We are now prepared to begin with the second move- 
 ment, the conduct and fate of these two men in exile. 
 Here too the thread of Timon is the more prominent. 
 He curses society, institutions, mankind ; he prays that 
 all the destructive elements of the world may be let 
 loose upon the race. Not only does he flee from the 
 face of humanity, but he tries to get rid of every social 
 custom ; like Lear he even casts away his clothing, as 
 the last remnant which distinguishes him from the beast 
 of the field. It is the complete abandonment of his 
 species and return to animality ; he disdains himself 
 on account of his human shape; he will not eat human 
 food, but digs in the earth for roots to sustain life. 
 But what is here ? As he turns up the ground, he finds 
 a heap of gold This is what he had fled, for it is the 
 image and representative of all property. The old 
 cause of his misfortune and transformation can not be 
 left behind, it extends its influence even to the woods. 
 But now he will keep it and make a new use of it, he 
 will employ it as a destructive weapon against human- 
 ity. 
 
 Not only property, but also society will appear at the 
 new abode of Timon in the forest; the world will be 
 brought into the presence of the misanthrope, judged 
 and damned. In order, however, to effect its destruc- 
 tion, its own negative elements are introduced and sent 
 on their pitiless errand. First come Alcibiades and 
 the two prostitutes ; the one is the assailant of the 
 State and the ethical institutions of man, the others are 
 the destroying angels of the physical being of man. 
 These two agencies, if let loose upon society without re- 
 
80 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 straint, seem quite sufficient to sweep it from the face 
 of the earth. Timon at first curses them because they 
 belong to the human race; though Alcibiades is his 
 friend, friendship now only arouses in him the most 
 bitter and vehement sarcasms. But when he learns that 
 their expedition is directed against his native city, he 
 wishes them complete success in their destructive career 
 and contributes a portion of his gold for the accom- 
 plishment of their purpose. Bandits come to rob him, 
 he thanks them for their profession because it is the 
 enemy of property ; he gives them gold also and sends 
 them to Athens to assail the wealth whose principle has 
 been his own ruin. 
 
 Other figures who belonged to the old company ap- 
 pear, of which the most interesting is Apemantus ; he 
 seeks out Timon in the forest. Here a new trait of 
 his distinctly appears, he is jealous of Timon's misan- 
 throphy, he wishes to monopolize for himself the hate 
 against mankind, and the fame thereof. We are now 
 certain that the cynicism of Apemantus is at bottom an 
 affectation and not a conviction; it is a capricious whim 
 or at most a theoretical hobby. He can have no valid 
 ground for it, he has not felt the loss of fortune, or the 
 treachery of friends, for he never had either fortune or 
 friends. But Timon's conduct rests upon his deepest 
 conviction and his actual experience ; his sincerity will 
 carry him to the logical consequence of his principles, 
 though the result be death. Apemantus, were he con- 
 sistent and honest, would long since have fled to the 
 woods, and not- have continued to lurk around the 
 abodes of the great. It is the difference between the 
 sincere and affected misanthrope. Timon therefore 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 8 1 
 
 will have nothing to do with him, and drives him back, 
 we may suppose, to society. 
 
 The Poet and Painter again come before us, though 
 now portrayed in grosser colors than before. The 
 Poet at least could have been charged only with flattery 
 in his previous utterances, now he is also t guilty of wan- 
 ton falsehood. The servants however still remain true 
 to the memory of Timon ; Flavius, the good steward 
 hunts him up in his solitude in order to take care of 
 him. Thus Timon is brought to acknowledge that 
 there is one honest man, one of the human race whom 
 he cannot hate. Still he will not tolerate any upright 
 shape. Flavius too is driven off under the threat of 
 curses. Finally the Senators of his native city are 
 brought to his cave, they make the humblest apologies 
 and offer the greatest rewards ; they are even ready to 
 grant him absolute power, if he will return and drive 
 back Alcibiades. No, he will not stir; on the contra- 
 ry he gives the State over to destruction. It ought to 
 be observed that Timon is here represented as a soldier 
 able to cope with the experienced Alcibiades, a new trait 
 which does not well consist with his previous character. 
 
 Society has now passed in review before Timon as 
 misanthrope ; it is only fit to perish. He has reached 
 the true conclusion of his doctrine : who ever desires to 
 rid himself of affliction, let him hang himself to a tree. 
 The human species is a nuisance, it ought to have sense 
 enough to abolish itself. The ultimate application of 
 his principle to himself he does not disguise ; if man- 
 kind ought to perish he must be included. Timon is 
 honest and consistent, hence he kills himself. Such is 
 the logical outcome of Pessimism, it must destroy its 
 supporter. Were Apemantus sincere in his expressed 
 
82 Shakespeare's 'Tragedies. 
 
 beliefs, he ought to meet with the same fate. The 
 tragic destiny of Timon therefore springs directly from 
 his conviction, we find its germ in the very beginning 
 of his career, in his views concerning property and so- 
 ciety. 
 
 The second of the two exiles, Alcibiades, has already 
 been noticed in his interview with Timon. He marches 
 against Athens, the city sues for peace, but its humilia- 
 tion is accomplished. It is punished for its wrongs, 
 the exclusive devotion to property has brought about 
 national subjugation. Thus it is manifest that this sec- 
 ond thread was introduced as the poetical means to visit 
 retribution upon society for its offences. Alcibiades 
 reserves the enemies of Timon and of himself for death, 
 the rest of the citizens are allowed to survive the loss 
 of independence. Both Timon and society have now 
 paid the penalty for their ethical violation, though the 
 wrong of Alcibiades against the state is left without ex- 
 planation or punishment. This second thread through- 
 out the entire drama is in a very incomplete condition, 
 but its general purpose is manifest from the conclusion. 
 
 In fact the play as a whole leaves the impression of a 
 sketch, completely filled out in some portions, in other 
 portions possessing the barest outlines of the characters 
 and action. Motives are inserted which are not after- 
 wards used, some are omitted which ought to have been 
 mentioned, both redundancy and deficiency are easy to 
 be pointed out. Several unexpected differences between 
 the first and second parts occur in the characterization, 
 these have been noticed in the case of the Poet, of 
 Apemantus, and of Timon also. The work therefore 
 seems to lack the final revision which gives to every 
 element its proper relief and organizes the whole into a 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 83 
 
 consistent unity. The reason of. this incompleteness 
 has often been conjectured, but never can be known. 
 Still the conception of the play is eminently worthy of 
 the great Dramatist, but it remains a grand fragment of 
 his genius, which, had it been completed, would have 
 taken an equal rank alongside of Lear, whose coloring 
 and treatment it often resembles. 
 
 othello: 
 The impression left by this play is generally said to 
 be that of sadness and despair. Life seems to be the 
 sport of external influences, and man is swept to de- 
 struction, whether his conduct be good or bad. Vil- 
 lany and cunning, it is thought, are portrayed as too 
 successful and powerful, while innocence is exhibited as 
 too weak and unfortunate. There is often expressed a 
 deep dissatisfaction at the result; virtue is not re- 
 warded or is even punished, and retribution does 
 not manifest itself in its native might. Perhaps 
 such will always be the first and most immediate im- 
 pression upon the auditor or reader. But this melan- 
 choly view of the work springs from a hasty judgment, 
 from taking into aceount only a portion of its various 
 elements. On the one hand Othello and Desdemona 
 are not innocent, but are guilty of a violation of ethical 
 principles, which calls forth their punishment ; and, on 
 the other hand, Iago is not the incarnation of villany 
 for its own sake, but he has some very strong and very 
 
84 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 natural grounds for his conduct. In this play, as in all 
 others of Shakespeare, a careful analysis is necessary in 
 order to bring all the motives to the surface, and to ad- 
 equately comprehend their thought and purpose. They 
 must be marshalled before the mind in their relation 
 and in their completeness. If only a part of what is 
 told us remains in the memory, the judgment is not 
 likely to be correct. Accordingly I believe that diligent 
 study and comparison will bring to light some less man- 
 ifest elements which must have an essential influence in 
 determining the character of the whole drama. 
 
 I am aware that there is likely to be made against this 
 kind of criticism the charge of seeking and finding what 
 the Poet never intended. Such a charge may be just 
 sometimes, but it usually means that the objector did 
 not think of the various points in question when he 
 read the play. Hence he infers that Shakespeare could 
 not have thought of them. There is often an ill-con- 
 cealed egotism lying at the basis of such statements, for 
 the benefit of which one reflection ought always to be 
 made. It took Shakespeare weeks, perhaps years, to 
 plan and write Othello. If so much time was required 
 for his mind in order to make the drama, how much 
 time will you (the objector), with your mind, need in 
 order to comprehend it ? To enter into his conception 
 thoroughly, to see his work arising from all sides and 
 coming together into a complete and harmonious whole, 
 will demand more than a three hours' reading or repre- 
 sentation. 
 
 There are three essential divisions of the entire 
 action. The first is the external conflict in the Fam- 
 ily ; the right of the daughter to choose a Moor for her 
 husband is asserted against the will of the parent. Both 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 85 
 
 sides appeal to the State, which decides in favor of the 
 marriage, and Othello carries off his bride in triumph. 
 The guilt of Desdemona is here indicated. The sec- 
 ond division shows the internal conflict in the Family, 
 between husband and wife. The married pair, though 
 successful in their external struggle with the father, are 
 now rent asunder, for between such characters no secure 
 and permanent ethical union is possible. Jealousy 
 must arise. Iago only seized what , was already pre- 
 pared, and used it for his own purposes. The guilt of 
 Othello and his Ancient are here shown. The third di- 
 vision is the retribution which brings home to every 
 person the consequences of his deeds. Tragedies usu- 
 ally have only two parts, guilt and retribution. But 
 there may be an introduction, as is seen in the first di- 
 vision of the present play, or there may be an appen- 
 dix, as is the case with Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 The presupposition of the action is the love, elope- 
 ment and marriage of Othello and Desdemona. They 
 are already united, against their union the hostile ele- 
 ments begin to array themselves. First comes the re- 
 jected yet determined suitor Rodrigo, who has been 
 ignominiously dismissed by the father, and apparently 
 disregarded by the daughter. Still he persists — the 
 great end of his existence is to secure her hand, for 
 which purpose he is willing to spend large sums of 
 money. This weakness makes him a fit subject for 
 the practices of Iago, who buoys him up with hope and 
 draws at will from his purse. But when the marriage is 
 sanctioned by the State, and is beyond reversal, what 
 will poor Roderigo do ? Since the object of his life is 
 to attain Desdemona, he is easily led into the thought 
 of attainining her in unholy fashion, when she can no 
 
86 Shakespeare 1 s Tragedies. 
 
 longer be his lawful wife. He is first foolish in pursu- 
 ing such an object, then he becomes immoral and assails 
 the Family. Roderigo is the white suitor of Desde- 
 mona and stands in striking contrast to the black sui- 
 tor, Othello. She prefers the hero of a different race 
 to the imbecile of her own nation. But his chief func- 
 tion is to be the ready instrument of Iago, who uses 
 him like the merest tool and destroys him when he no 
 longer subserves any purpose. 
 
 The second enemy is Iago, whose hate is not directed 
 against the marriage, primarily, but against Othello in 
 person. Hence he plays a very subordinate part in the 
 first division of the drama, but is reserved for the sec- 
 ond collision. To unfold and arrange in proper order 
 and prominence the different motives which actuate him 
 is one of the chief duties of a criticism on this work. 
 In his conversation with Roderigo heassign s as the 
 cause of his hate that he hasb een degraded in rank 
 
 through riavinjrjijess eyperiqnrp.H and l ess meritoriou s 
 officer^promoted over h is head by Othell o. Hereafter 
 he is going to look out for himself, since nobody else 
 will pay any attention to his claims. He proposes to 
 employ any means in his power to accomplish his end ; 
 everything/high and holy, honesty, fidelity, morality, is 
 to be trampled under foot if standing in his way. The 
 service of the individual therefore he declares to be his 
 ultimate principle, but to attain his purpose with suc- 
 cess, there must be disguise. "I am not what I am," 
 is his curt and striking statement, his instrumentality 
 is to be dissimulation. 
 
 Iago asserts in the strongest manner the supremacy 
 of reason ; men can make out of their body and their 
 appetite what they will. Still his reason extends not 
 
Shakespeare'' s Tragedies. 87 
 
 beyond subjective cunning, he ignores the validity of 
 all ethical principles. Virtue is a pretense, love is. 
 merely lust, reputation is a delusion. The question 
 naturally arises, why has his intelligence become so de- 
 bauched ? The ground thereof lies in his own experi- 
 ence, as will be pointed out hereafter. But here also 
 there is a large element of pretense, since he knows the 
 exact nature of his conduct. Mark too that for his 
 hatred of Othello he has not assigned to Roderigo the 
 true motive, he is already dissembling in accordance 
 with his principle. His talk is intended for Roderigo 
 alone, whom he wishes to keep as an instrument, and 
 to whom he is compelled therefore to give some motive 
 for his conduct, and some clew to his future action. 
 For Roderigo, fool as he is, must have a plausible ex- 
 planation of the strange fact that the Ancient of Oth- 
 ello works against his master, before any money will be 
 forthcoming. 
 
 But the true motive for Iago's hate is given in his 
 first and also in his succeeding soliloquies, but nowhere 
 in his conversation with others, since he would not be 
 likely to announce his own shame, or herald his self- 
 degrading suspicions. He considers .that Othello has 
 destroyed the chastity of his wife. Public rumor has 
 noised the scandal abroad ; he is made the object of 
 scorn, he feels that he has suffered the deepest injury 
 which man is capable of giving or receiving. This is 
 the thought which gnaws the heart oi Iago and spurs 
 him to revenge : 
 
 the thought whereof 
 
 Doth like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards, 
 And nothing can or shall content my soul 
 Till I be evened with him. 
 
88 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 Such was his own declaration to himself, whom he 
 certainly had no motive for deceiving. Nor is it con- 
 sistent with his shrewd understanding to assume that 
 his belief rests on self-deception, that he really did not 
 know what he was about. Iago has declared his actual 
 conviction, a conviction which is confirmed by events 
 which afterwards transpire. It is often taken for granted 
 that his suspicions are wholly groundless, in fact that he 
 does not believe them himself. The question of Othel- 
 lo's guilt with Emilia belongs to the second division of 
 the play, where it will be hereafter considered. But 
 that Iago is sincere in his belief can not be consistently 
 questioned. The single motive usually assumed for 
 his conduct is what he states to Roderigo about the lack 
 of promotion. Such a view however is psychologically 
 false ; Iago is not the man to tell the truth to another 
 and lie to himself. Moreover, why is the form of the 
 soliloquy employed, unless to express the real internal 
 ground of his action which could not be imparted to 
 others ? 
 
 With this interpretation there is a motive quite ade- 
 quate for the subsequent vindictive conduct of Iago ; 
 otherwise he is an unnatural character, a monstrosity. His 
 slight in regard to promotion weuld doubtless excite his 
 enmity, but not an enmity sufficient to involve Des- 
 demona in destruction, or even Othello. To inflict 
 worse than death upon a man because he did not ad- 
 vance a subordinate when he could have done so, is al- 
 together disproportionate to the offence ; but to cause 
 his wife to perish also is merely horrible. Thus Iago 
 is a monster, a wild_bea st, and ne e ds no motive at a Jl T 
 not e ven neglect of promod m^to bring on a rabid fit 
 of cruelty. But what then becomes oF't'Re" artistic me- 
 
Shakespeare's tragedies. 89 
 
 rit and beauty of this drama? Moreover Shakespeare's 
 rule is to motive all his most important characters ; 
 such a being as the villain pure an. I simple is not to be 
 found in any of his works. The second motive is 
 therefore the true one, and at the same time is adequate ; 
 the family of Iago has been ruined by Othello, now 
 Iago in his turn will ruin the family of the destroyer of 
 his domestic life, hence Desdemona is included in his 
 retaliation. He thus requites the Moor with like for 
 like, his conduct is logical and his revenge only equals 
 the offence. But there is absolutely no proportion be- 
 tween motive and deed if he involved Othello's family 
 in destruction, merely because the latter would not pro- 
 mote him. Such seems to be the proper relation of the 
 two grand motives mentioned by the Poet; the first 
 one is intended only for Roderigo, while the second is 
 the true and single motive for the subsequent actions 
 of Iago. 
 
 The third opponent of the marriage is the father, 
 Brabantio. This opposition gives the collision which 
 Shakespeare always takes particular delight in portray- 
 ing, the collision between the right of choice and the 
 will of the parent. It is often supposed that the tragic 
 destiny of the daughter is motived by her disobedience, 
 but such a view will not bear investigation. Shakes- 
 peare everywhere justifies the right of choice when it is 
 the sole issue, and therein he is true to the modern con- 
 sciousness. It belongs to the woman to say who shall 
 be her husband, for she, and not her father, has to form 
 with him the unity of emotion which lies at the basis of 
 the Family. But even if we grant that there is some 
 guilt in such conduct, it certainly can not be tragic guilt 
 which involves the destruction of the individual. The 
 
go Shakespeare 's Tragedies. 
 
 ethical code of Shakespeare is therefore against this in- 
 terpretation, for he always mediates such a conflict by 
 the triumph of the daughter. The case of Romeo and 
 Juliet is mixed with another ingredient, namely, the an- 
 tecedent hate of the two houses, which renders recon- 
 ciliation impossible ; therefore it is not an example of 
 merely paternal opposition to the marriage of a daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 Another motive must hence be sought, which the 
 Poet has not failed to indicate. It lies -in the fact that 
 between husband and wife existed the difference of 
 race. An ethical union is impossible under such cir- 
 cumstances, the chasm is too wide, at least in the 
 present condition of mankind. The Family, like all 
 institutions, is grounded in prescription, this prescrip- 
 tion has placed upon marriage certain limitations which 
 can not be violated without giving the deepest offence 
 to the ethical feelings. The principle of prescription 
 belongs to every age and nation in different degrees, 
 and is shared by all the truly moral people ; those who 
 violate it are regarded as outcasts. A difference of rank 
 often destroys the possibility of an ethical union, though 
 the parties are of the same race and of the same coun- 
 try. In Europe to-day the marriage of a lord and ser- 
 vant-girl collides with the moral consciousness of the 
 whole public. The rational basis for such a strong 
 sentiment is not wanting; it is that where so great a 
 difference exists, the unity demanded by the Family is 
 impossible. Both parties know that they have violated 
 one ethical element of marriage, hence comes the dark 
 suspicion that another ethical element of marriage may 
 be as readily disregarded, namely, chastity. Therefore 
 the jealousy which fires Othello will hardly fail to arise 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 91 
 
 from such a union, and turn it into a source of bitter- 
 ness and death. 
 
 Desdemona has contracted a marriage which is im- 
 possible for the Family, hence it culminates in destroying 
 the woman who enters into its baleful embrace. The 
 true tragic element of her character we are now prepared 
 to appreciate. . On the one side, she is the most chaste 
 and innocent of women, her love and devotion are abso- 
 lute. So faithful to her relation does she seem that 
 many people can see no justification for her •fate. But 
 let us now turn to the other side. While in the highest 
 degree true to one ethical principle, she utterly disre- 
 gards another. The entire realm of prescription which 
 rests up">n distinction of race she casts to the 
 winds, and marries an African. In the most beautiful 
 manner she is true to the Family, but is untrue to that 
 upon which the Family reposes ; for the sake of mar- 
 riage she violates the condition of marriage. Her tra- 
 gic pathos, therefore, lies in the fact that she espouses 
 the one whom she loves, which is her right, and yet 
 thereby involves herself in guilt. The collision with 
 her parent is allowable, but not with her race ; that is, 
 the one is not tragic, the other is. If Othello were not 
 a Moor, there would be no motive for the fate of Des- 
 demona ; and conversely, if she commits no offence in 
 her marriage, it is hard to see why the Poet should give 
 himself the unnecessary trouble of making Othello a 
 Moor. The onlv answer which can be given, is that he 
 followed blindly the sources of his plot at the sacrifice 
 of both decency and thought. 
 
 A correct appreciation of this subject is not without 
 difficulties in our time ; any view is likely to be assailed 
 with the charge of prejudice. But there seems to be 
 
92 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 no doubt that Shakespeare makes race an ethical element 
 of marriage as important as chastity. Nor does he dif- 
 fer much from the great majority of mankind at present. 
 That philanthropist is yet to be found who would be 
 willing to see his daughter marry an African, though 
 both be dead in love. His repugnance does not neces- 
 sarily proceed from prejudice, but from the conviction 
 that such a union is unethical, the lives of the pair, 
 even if they lasted, would be a continuous tragedy. 
 The prospect of his posterity would also be apt to call 
 forth language and emotions quite similar to those of 
 Brabantio. 
 
 A question has been raised concerning the degree of 
 Othello's Africanism, about which extreme opinions 
 have been held in both directions. But he was not a 
 Hottentot on the one hand, nor was he a Caucassian 
 on the other ; he was, however, born in Africa, and his 
 physiognomy is thoroughly African. The point which 
 the Poet emphasizes so often and so strongly is the dif- 
 ference of race between him and Desdemona ; he is her 
 equal in rank, for he comes of royal lineage ; he is the 
 peer of her family in honor and fame, for he is the most 
 distinguished man in Venice ; the sole difference which 
 is selected as the ground of the collision is the difference 
 of race. This fact is sufficient for all dramatic pur- 
 poses ; to ascertain the exact shade of his skin may be 
 left to those who have leisure to play with probabilities. 
 
 Desdemona therefore asserts the right of choosing 
 her husband against the will of her father, which colli- 
 sion as above said, is continually recurring in Shakes- 
 peare, and which he always solves by giving full validity 
 to love, though in opposition to parental authority. 
 But in the present instance he has surrounded the choice 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 93 
 
 of the young girl with a peculiar obstacle and introduced 
 an element found nowhere else in his dramas. The 
 love of Desdemona is made to leap over quite all the 
 social limitations known to man ; she bids defiance not 
 only to the behests of Family, but also to the feelings 
 of nationality and to the instincts of race. She is a 
 practical cosmopolitan. 
 
 Her father Brabantio is decidedly of the opposite 
 character. He is not wholly illiberal in his external 
 conduct ; nevertheless, he bears the stamp of a hide- 
 bound patrician, devoted more to his class than to his 
 country. He would hardly be called national in his 
 feelings ; the cosmopolitan love of his daughter there- 
 fore excites in his bosom the liveliest emotions. It is, 
 indeed, so incomprehensible to him, that he can only 
 account for it by the employment of some supernatural 
 means on the part of the Moor. His limits areessen-. 
 tially his own order. But he cannot avoid taking his 
 share of the blame ; it is his own conduct which has led 
 to the unfortunate result. Othello has been a frequent 
 guest at his house, and thus he has himself furnished 
 the opportunity of the courtship. For Othello had 
 rendered the most important services to the State; on 
 account of these services he was tolerated, indeed, wel- 
 comed to the home of the Venetian aristocrat. But 
 never for a moment did the latter think of removing 
 the social ban. The limits of race Othello has thus 
 broken down on one side, he has obtained honor and 
 high command in the State. Here he can not be barred 
 out, for he is the chief instrument of its existence. It 
 might be thought that these civil distinctions are higher 
 than any other; this may be so, still they can not ov- 
 ercome social distinctions, or prejudices, if you please. 
 
94 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 The contrast is drawn in the most striking manner by 
 the Poet. Brabantio admires him, treats him with the 
 kindness of a friend, regards him as a benefactor, often 
 invites him to his own house, and seems to accord to 
 him complete social equality. Yet when it comes to 
 have Othello as a son-in-law, his nature revolts ; for 
 him the limit of race is impassable; he would prefer the 
 booby Roderigo, because he is a Venetian, to the hero 
 Othello because he is a Moor. Brabantio can only 
 curse fatherhood when he contemplates his descendants 
 of a different race. 
 
 But this narrow Venetian view of things is an ab- 
 surdity, and can not be permanent. The State which 
 thus defends itself by the aid of a distinct and despised 
 race, must expect to bestow honors upon those to whom 
 it owes its own existence. That race can not long be 
 excluded from social equality under such circumstances, 
 for the State is the higher, and must give the greater 
 validity to the instrumentalities of its own perpetuity. 
 Hence these social distinctions will be ignored or sub- 
 ordinated in the end by the State. Consequently we 
 see in this play that the Duke, the head of authority 
 can only confirm the union of Othello and Desdemona. 
 Such is the strife here portrayed, between social preju- 
 dice and acquired honors by an individual of a despised 
 race. It is very manifest that the Venetians must 
 themselves defend their State, if they wish to preserve 
 intact their Society. The latter is subordinate to the 
 former. 
 
 Desdemona therefore refuses to make these distinc- 
 tions of her father and countrymen. She is an artless 
 girl, unacquainted with the world, and seems to have 
 been brought up in pretty strict seclusion by her father. 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 95 
 
 She sees the Hero, the all sufficient man; this is enough 
 to captivate her heart. She hears his adventures, how 
 he has met the greatest obstacles of the world and con- 
 quered them all ; he appears to be the master over acci- 
 dent. It is his bravery against external danger which is 
 portrayed ; no feats of mind, or skill, or cunning are 
 recorded ; his composition has in it more of the Achil- 
 les than of the Ulysses. On this weaker side, namelv, 
 the intellectual, he will hereafter be assailed, be over- 
 come and perish. He is essentially the Hero of sur- 
 passing cburage and self-possession. Desdemona has, 
 on the other hand, the characteristic element of the 
 true woman, a loving trust ; she must have a support 
 to lean upon, a heart to confide in ; the stronger thev 
 are, the more intense is her devotion. All the most 
 attractive qualities to such a nature she sees before her; 
 she has not imbibed the social prejudices of the time, 
 or perhaps despises them; she sees Othello's "visage 
 in his mind," she ignores his color and race, and breaks 
 through the barrier. Othello, too, is caught for the 
 correspending reason ; the trust and devotion of the 
 woman call forth love; the leaning for support arouses 
 the most intense pleasure in giving support; the causes 
 of their love are reciprocal : 
 
 "She loved me for the dangers I had passed, 
 And I loved her that she did pity them." 
 
 The Heroic in the man, calls forth the devotion of 
 the woman, and the devotion and sympathy of the 
 woman can only beget their like in the man. Such are 
 the motives which the Poet has elaborated in order to 
 adequately account for this extraordinary union. The 
 Father is repaid for his social equality, which at bottom 
 was a mere pretence; he is now to behold it in reality, 
 
9 6 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 for his own family is to be transferred to a totally dif- 
 ferent race. 
 
 Such is the collision in the Family ; we are' now pre- 
 pared to see the same conflict pushed forward into the- 
 State. Brabantio has roused the neighborhood and is 
 in hot pursuit of the lovers. He finds the Moor, ar- 
 rests him as a criminal, and cites him before the highest 
 tribunal of justice. But mark! even before the arri- 
 val of Brabantio, a messenger of the government has 
 come in great haste for Othello. The Duke is in 
 pressing need of his services, the country rs in danger, 
 the Turk is threatening Cyprus. The two conflicting 
 elements are thus brought together side by side. Othel- 
 lo obeys the double summons, on the one hand as a 
 criminal, and on the other hand as the defender of the 
 country. Then follows the trial. It is the same tri- 
 bunal which has to try him as a malefactor, and to ap- 
 point him to command against the foe. Brabantio in 
 his accusation, can only account for such an unnatural 
 love by the employment of witchcraft, or of some po- 
 tent drug. Such is his charge. The reproach of race 
 is always on his lips ; to him it is inconceivable that 
 his daughter should fall in love with a black monster 
 whom she feared to look upon. How his fellow patri- 
 cians were affected by his situation may be judged from 
 the language of the Duke before he knows who the of- 
 fender is : 
 
 "Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding 
 Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself 
 And you of her, the bloody book of law 
 You shall yourself read in the bitter letter 
 After its own sense , yea, though our proper son 
 Stood in your action." 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 97 
 
 But though the Duke might condemn his own son, 
 he could not condemn Othello. The decision is a very 
 unwilling one, but how can it be helped? The choice 
 must be made : the safety of the State or the punish- 
 ment of the offender. The appeal of Brabantio is 
 doubtless most powerful ; his "brothers of the State 
 can not but feel this wrong as their own," and if such 
 actions be permitted, who will be their children, the fu- 
 ture rulers of Venice ? But there can be only one result 
 of such a trial, the State is deciding whether it shall ex- 
 ist or a subordinate principle shall be asserted. The 
 parent gives up all hope when his charge is disproved; 
 he has already cursed fatherhood, in which alone such a 
 collision is possible, and now with a heavy heart and an 
 ominous warning to the pair, he asks that the Senate 
 turn to other affairs. Othello departs with his prize 
 for the wars, in his struggle with both Family and State 
 he has been triumphant. 
 
 Such is the conclusion of the first division of the ac- 
 tion, in which is portrayed the external conflict in its 
 twofold phase. The various hostile elements have as- 
 sailed the union of Othello and Desdemona from the 
 outside and have failed. This first division almost con- 
 stitutes a drama by itself with its collisions and happy 
 termination. Were Othello a Venetian, it would be 
 difficult to tell why the play should not end here. But 
 in the difference of race has been planted the germ of 
 the interna! disruption of the pair ; the man has also 
 been introduced to us whose hatred will nurse this 
 germ into a speedy and colossal growth. 
 
 The second division of the trdgedy exhibits the inter- 
 nal conflict in the Family, a conflict which brings to 
 ruin all who participate in its guilt. The scene is now 
 
Shakespeare 's Tragedies. 98 
 
 transferred from Venice to Cyprus, where Othello has 
 supreme authority. The struggle therefore will not be 
 disturbed by any external power, but will be allowed to 
 unfold itself in its natural and complete development. 
 The couple too are here removed from the social preju 
 dice and dislike which would assail them at home. By 
 , this transition therefore they become the head of the 
 society around them, free scope is given to make the 
 most of their union. Relieved of every possibility of 
 immediate external interference, Othello and Des- 
 demona must now fall back upon their internal bond of 
 marriage. 
 
 But a disruption will take place, of which the grand 
 instrument is Iago, who now becomes the central figure 
 of the action. The motive for his conduct has already 
 been stated to lie in the deep injury which he believes 
 that he has suffere^ rrom the Moor. His method is to 
 excite in Othello the most intense jealousy, to produce 
 which he employs various means, that will be consider- 
 ed in their proper place. Now it is a leading peculiar- 
 ity of Othello that his character is fundamentally free 
 from jealousy, he is of a noble, open, magnanimous 
 disposition. The problem then is to explain how an 
 unsuspicious person becomes filled with the most dead- 
 ly suspicion. The character of the Moor is a contra- 
 diction, and hence an impossibility without some ade- 
 quate ground for the great change which it undergoes 
 If he were naturally jealous, there would be needed no 
 motive for his conduct ; but the difficult point lies in 
 the fact that he is naturally without jealousy. His 
 characterization as well as that of lago, has been pro- 
 nounced unnatural, and so it is, unless some adequate 
 impelling principle can be given, to account for this to- 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 99 
 
 tal inversion of" his nature. We shall attempt to ex- 
 plain the cause or his change and to portray his grad- 
 ual transition from the first surmise to the final deed of 
 blood. 
 
 The several parties have arrived in the island, Othel- 
 lo still remains behind. While they are waiting for 
 his ship, a conversation arises which exhibits a new 
 phase of Iago's character: his disbelief in the honpr_of 
 woman. It must be regarded as the result of his own 
 experience, married life has for him brought forth only 
 its bitterest fruits. He treats his wife with the greatest 
 asperity and contempt which she with slight protest 
 for the present endures. But at the whole sex he aims 
 his sarcasms, his doctrine is that woman is naturally 
 lustful and faithless, and moreover fitted only for the 
 lowest functions. That the husband's opinion of Emi- 
 lia is true, is very plainly indicated in the last scene of 
 the Fourth Act, where she openly admits that chastity 
 is not the principle of her life. Othello is also well ac- 
 quainted with her character, he knows of her falsehood 
 and infidelity, he will not believe any of her statements 
 and loads her with the most approbrious epithets. 
 
 We are now brought face to face with a question 
 which is by no means pleasant to consider, but which 
 has to be discussed if we wish to comprehend the Poet's 
 work. Must we regard the Moor as guilty of what 
 Iago suspects him ? There is nothing in the play which 
 shows that Othello was innocent of the charge, but 
 there is much which shows that he was not innocent. 
 The very fact, that, this suspicion is cast upon him al- 
 most at the beginning and is nowhere removed, seems 
 sufficient to raise the presumption of guilt. It hangs 
 over him like a cloud which will not pass away. Then 
 
ioo Shakespeare 1 s Tragedies. 
 
 Emilia's character, instead of precluding, strengthens 
 the supposition of criminal intercourse, and the notion 
 is still further upheld by the knowledge of her habits 
 which Othello betrays. But the veil is never wholly re- 
 moved. Why does not the Poet openly state the of- 
 fence so as to leave no doubt ? It is evident that he 
 does not wish to soil the union with Desdemona by 
 dwelling on Othello's incontinence, nor does he desire 
 to throw into the background the difference of race, as 
 the leading motive of the play. Still he would not have 
 us forget the dark surmise, there it is suspended over 
 the Moor to the last. Iago to be sure is a liar, but his 
 lies are meant for others and not for himself. More- 
 over Iago is not more certain at first than we his read- 
 ers and hearers are; but the complete success of his 
 plan which is based on the Moor's guilt, confirms both 
 for him and for us the truth of the suspicion. 
 
 So much is indicated in the course of the play ; but 
 if the deeper motives of the various characters, are care- 
 fully examined, this conclusion would seem to become 
 irresistible. Iago is manifestly assailed with the same 
 burning jealousy which afterwards wrought such terrific 
 effects in Othello. Now what will be the manner of 
 his revenge ? The most logical and adequate would be 
 "wife for wife," hence his first thought is to debauch 
 Desdemona. But nothing more is heard of this plan, 
 for it could not possibly be successful. Then comes 
 his most shrewd and peculiar method of avenging his 
 wrong. If he cannot dishonor Othello in reality, he 
 can do it in appearance with almost the same results. 
 His purpose is to make Othello believe that Desdemo- 
 na is untrue. This will be a revenge sufficient for his 
 end, it will destroy Othello's happiness and peace of 
 
Shakespeare' s Tragedies. 101 
 
 mind just as well as the truth, it will bring upon the 
 latter that which he has brought upon Iago. 
 
 Another phase of the question now comes up for so- 
 lution. How was it possible to excite such a passion 
 in a character like that of Othello? The free, open, un- 
 suspecting nature of the Moor is noted by Iago him- 
 self, his noble and heroic disposition would appear, 
 least likely to be subject to jealousy. Yet, this is the 
 very form of revenge chosen by Iago with surpassing 
 skill, this is therefore just the weak side of Othello's 
 character. Why ? The solution of the problem lies in 
 the fact above mentioned, that Iago's suspicion is true. 
 Othello has been gu ilty of adultery, he is therefore 
 a ware that the infide lity~ oT wives is a fa ct. Herelies 
 the germ of his belief in the faithlessness of Desdemo- 
 na, his own act thus comes home to him and renders 
 him accursed, his faith in justice can only make him 
 more ready to think that he will be punished through 
 his wife, since that is the mode of his own guilt. Such 
 is the initial point ot the fearful jealousy of the Moor, 
 which Iago knows exactly how to reach, since it is a mat- 
 ter lying wholly within his own experience; and he 
 knows also that Othello on account of previous crimi- 
 nality must be as capable of this passion as himself. 
 Both the revenge of Iago and the jealousy of Othello 
 therefore can be adequately motived only by the guilty 
 conduct of the Moor towards che Ancient's wife. More- 
 over there is no other ground for the relation of mar- 
 riage between Iago and Emilia except as a basis for these 
 two main motives of drama. Thus too we see one of 
 the fundamental rules of Shakespeare vindicated, that 
 man cannot escape his own deed ; hence Othello is the 
 author of his own fate, since by his guilt he has called 
 
io2 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 up the avenger who will destroy him and his family; 
 while without the view above developed he must appear 
 as an innocent sufferer deceived by a malicious villain. 
 Two other things of great importance have their expla- 
 nation in the same view ; namely, the manner of Iago's 
 revenge and his knowledge of the assailable point in 
 Othello's character. Here we find the solution of the 
 Moor's contradictory nature ; he is in general unsus- 
 pecting, but on account of his guilt he is capable of one 
 suspicion, namely, that wives may be faithless. The 
 Poet has thus added to the distinction of race, for which 
 the Moor could not be blamed, a second motive, the 
 criminal deed of which he must take the responsibility. 
 The military life of Othello will furnish the third prin- 
 ciple, that of honor, which will impel him to destroy 
 the wife whom he thinks to have violated it in its deep- 
 est and most tender part. 
 
 The plan of Iago and the grounds upon which it re- 
 poses have now been unfolded ; the next task before 
 us is to scan with care the instruments which he em- 
 ploys to effect his purpose. The first one is Roderigo, 
 who stands in a wholly external relation to the main ac- 
 tion, and is always introduced from the outside for some 
 violent purpose. He is twice turned against Cassio and 
 is continually directed by the hand of Iago. His un- 
 holy pursuit has also brought him to Cyprus, where he 
 is still fed with hope and relieved of his money by the 
 artful Ancient But he becomes very impatient, he is 
 always angry at his first appearance in the scene, yet a 
 few words from Iago fill him again with great expecta- 
 tions. It is curious what a predominating influence 
 Iago's superior intelligence has over him. When alone 
 he knows that he is robbed and deceived ; he even re- 
 
Shakespeires Tragedies. 103 
 
 solves to go home after giving Iago a good tongue- 
 lashing. But he always yields even against his own 
 judgment, he cannot resist the plausibility and flattery 
 of the Ancient, and he twice exposes, and finally loses 
 his life in his foolish and unrighteous enterprise. 
 
 The second and by all means the most important 
 instrument in the hands of Iago is the Lieutenant Cas- 
 sio. This man is in every way adapted for exciting 
 Othello's jealousy. He is on intimate terms with Des- 
 demona, he is fair in external appearance, gifted with 
 the graces of deportment, and his youthful face stands 
 in marked contrast to the older look of Othello. Mod- 
 ern parlance would call him a ladies' man. But the de- 
 cisive fact in his portraiture is that he is an open, noto- 
 rious libertine, Iago himself has reason to suspect him 
 too of undue intimacy with Emilia. This suspicion in 
 itself by no means so improbable on account of her 
 character, is however not confirmed in other parts of 
 the play. But to remove all doubt concerning Cassio's 
 moral weaknesses, the Poet has introduced a special 
 person, the courtesan Bianca. There is no other 
 ground whv such an offensive relation should be drag- 
 ged into the drama. Cassio has been long acquainted 
 with Othello who also must have known his private 
 habits. Cassio is therefore in every way a fit subject 
 for suspicion, on account of his character, his external 
 appearance and his relation to Desdemona. 
 
 Already Iago has observed a familiarity a little indis- 
 creet \et entirely innocent, between the Lieutenant and 
 Desdemona. But Iago can do nothing unless he can 
 bring about a total separation between Cassio and 
 Othello, so that they will not communicate together. 
 This then he proceeds to accomplish, thus destroying 
 
I04 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 all opportunities for explanation, and giving occasion 
 for the intercession of Desdemona. The dark plan of 
 Iago is wonderfully carried out, he holds and directs 
 Cassio with one hand and Othello with the other, yet 
 neither knows what is controlling him. The drunken 
 brawl causes the Lieutenant to be dismissed, Roderigo 
 here is made the external means. Dissimulation could 
 not be more complete. Iago has three disguises, he 
 makes three men believe that he is working in their in- 
 terest, yet is at the same time ruining them all. He 
 hopes also to get Cassio's place, though the main mo- 
 tive is to wreak revenge upon Othello, of which Cassio 
 is a convenient instrument. Ambition is not his deep- 
 est impelling power, but revenge. 
 
 At this point we behold the grand culmination of 
 Iago's characterization: it is his confession that he is a 
 villain. The form of the soliloquy again appears, in 
 which he always expresses his deepest convictions. He 
 knows that he is involving the innocent and the guilty 
 in one common destruction, he acknowledges that he is 
 a devil clothed in his blackest sins ; that is, Iago is en- 
 tirely conscious of the nature of his deed, and does not 
 try to conceal it from himself. He at first indulges in 
 an ironical defence of the advice which he gives to Cas- 
 sio for recovering the Moor's favor ; in appearance it 
 is the best possible counsel, but it is counteracted and 
 turned into the most deadly poison by his own dark in- 
 sinuations to Othello. Such a defence however is the 
 divinity of Hell from whose sophisms his mind at least 
 is free. It is thus his great boast that his intelligence 
 is not caught in the meshes of deceptive casuistry ; still 
 he will have his revenge. Iago is the self conscious vil- 
 lain. He knows that he is overthrowing the moral 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 1 05 
 
 world, as far as his conduct goes ; still it must perish 
 since it stands in his way. There is no excusing of 
 himself, no palliation of the deed : 
 
 When devils will their blackest sins put on, 
 They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, 
 As I do now. 
 
 How complete the consciousness and how audacious 
 the statement of his own character ! It has been said 
 that Iago deceives himself with his display of motives, 
 that he persuaded himself to believe a falsehood in his 
 accusation or Othello. This soliloquy ought to banish 
 forever such an opinion. No man ever knew his own 
 mind better than Iago ; here it is seen that he clearly 
 comprehends and acknowledges the nature of his deed. 
 He is aware that every man is a villain who does what 
 he is doing ; however deserved may be his revenge 
 upon Othello, he can have no justification for ruining 
 Cassio and Desdemona, and resorting to the means 
 which he now employs. 
 
 The third instrument of Iago is Emilia, his wife, 
 who is the devoted attendant of Desdemona and is 
 employed by the latter in her communication with the 
 cashiered Lieutenant. Iago thus has a means of ob- 
 taining information concerning their plans. Desdemo- 
 na is now set to interceding for Cassio ; she is urged 
 on by both Emilia and Cassio, who are in their turn 
 directed by Iago. This part of the plan easily suc- 
 ceeds. 
 
 But Iago himself, must manage the far more diffi- 
 cult case of Othello. This brings us now to the main 
 development of the drama, and perhaps the most com- 
 plete psychological portraiture in Shakespeare. Iago be- 
 gins the manipulation of Othello's mind through a ser- 
 
to6 Shakespeure's Tragedies. 
 
 ies of influences adapted exactly to the shifting phases 
 of the latters disposition, and increasing in intensity to 
 the end. Given a noble unsuspecting character, the 
 design is to portray those causes which not only turn it 
 into the opposite, but make it destroy its most beloved 
 object. The primal basis to work upon lies in Othel- 
 lo's own consciousness of guilt. The first point is to 
 faintly touch his suspicion, which is accomplished most 
 easily, for he readily imagines what he himself has done 
 to others may happen in his own case. We see how 
 the slightest hint from lago cast a shadow over his 
 whole being. 
 
 Iago. Ha, I like not that. 
 
 Oth. What dost thou-say ? 
 
 lago. Nothing my lord, or if — I know not what. 
 
 Oth. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife ? etc. 
 
 A word from Desdemona is sufficient however to al- 
 lay his mistrust, but another word from lago is suffi- 
 cient to arouse it anew in all its intensity. Can any 
 one doubt that this hasty suspicion on the part of an un- 
 suspecting character can have any other ground than the 
 consciousness of the same kind of guilt ? Iago's artifices 
 are unquestionably skillful, but he found a most fruitful 
 and well prepared soil, and besides his very skillfulness 
 rests upon his comprehending and utilizing so thor- 
 oughly the psychological effects of Othello's crime. It 
 is impossible to think that an honest and innocent man 
 could have been so easily led astray. 
 
 Othello's suspicion is now fully aroused, but with it 
 the difficulty of Iago's task is proportionately greater. 
 How will the latter prevent that suspicion from becom- 
 ing universal, from being directed against himself as well 
 as against Cassio and Desdemona? His first plan there- 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 107 
 
 fore, must be to confirm his own honesty in the mind 
 of Othello with the same care and skill that he infuses 
 distrust against the other two. He has to fill the Moor 
 with suspicion, and at the same time to avoid the sus- 
 picion of doing that very thing. 
 
 It is this double and apparently contradictory ability 
 that gives such a lofty idea of Iago's intellectual power. 
 But how does he proceed to accomplish his purpose ? 
 At first by the apparent unwillingness with which he 
 tells his dark surmises, and by the pretended dislike 
 with which he assails the reputation of people. In 
 these cases he seems to manifest the most tender, regard 
 for the rights and character of others, indeed he re 
 peatedly confesses his own tendency to suspect wrong- 
 fully. Such a man appears absolutely just, more just 
 indeed to others than, to himself. But all these things 
 might be the tricks of a false, disloyal knave, as Othel- 
 lo well knows and says. Now comes Iago's master 
 stroke, by which he completely spans the Moor's mind, 
 and turns it in whatever direction he pleases. "Othel- 
 lo beware of jealousy,", and then he proceeds to give a 
 description of its baleful nature. What now is the at- 
 titude of the Moor? This is the very passion with 
 which he knows himself to be effected. Never more can 
 he harbor a doubt of Iago's honesty, for has not the 
 latter warned him of his danger? Iago thus tears out 
 and brings to the Moor's own look his deepest con- 
 sciousness, his greatest peril. He knows the truth of 
 the warning. Iago now can proceed with more certain- 
 ty and directness, he can not be suspected of exciting 
 jealousy, for this is the very thing against which he has 
 given so potent a warning. Thus Othello is thrown 
 on his own defence, is compelled to dissimulate his true 
 
108 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 feelings, declares that he is not jealous, when he reaLy 
 is. He is forced into the necessity of disguise, ex- 
 changes positions with Iago. Yet the latter well knows, 
 indeed says, that jealousy cannot be eradicated when 
 once excited, but ever creates itself anew, feeds on its 
 own meat. Such is the two-fold purpose of Iago as 
 manifested in this dialogue : to inspire Othello with 
 suspicion and yet shun suspicion himself. Othello is 
 caught, the reason is manifest. A universally suspi- 
 cious nature would not have been thus entrapped, it 
 must have suspected the purpose of Iago also, with all 
 his adroitness. 
 
 Othello is however naturally unsuspecting, but guilr 
 has furnished the most fruitful soil for one kind of sus 
 picion, that soil Iago cultivates. Hence the Moor is 
 afraid of only one thing, the infidelity of his wife, the 
 tricks of Iago lie outside of the horizon of his suspic- 
 ion. On the other hand, a completely innocent nature 
 could not have been thus entrapped, the psychological 
 basis would be wholly wanting. Here is seen the reason 
 for the marked outlines of Othello's character; he is 
 not naturally suspicious, otherwise he must have sus- 
 pected the purpose of Iago ; nor is he guiltless, tor if 
 he were, his jealousy could not have been reached by 
 any such artifice. 
 
 Nothing can be more impressive and instructive 
 than the contemplation of this mental development. It 
 is most clearly shown how that man's deed becomes for- 
 ever a part of his being, how that he can never free him- 
 self from its effects upon his own disposition. The 
 deed does not fly away into the past and lose itself in 
 vacuity after it is done, but it sinks into the deepest 
 consciousness of the doer, and gives coloring to his fu- 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 109 
 
 ture conduct. The negative wicked act must cast its 
 dark shadow upon the soul, and thus change the char- 
 acter of the individual, whereby he is prepared for pun- 
 ishment. In the case of Othello we shudder at the man- 
 ner in which guilt finds the most subtle avenues for re- 
 turning upon the doer. The deed may be secret to the 
 gaze of the world, but it sinks deep into the mind ; 
 this is altered, and retribution will follow. Such a por- 
 traiture is worth, to a rational being, all the insipid 
 ■ moralizing of ages. 
 
 Iago can now be more bold, Othello cannot suspect 
 him. Hitherto he has directed his hints and surmises 
 against Cassio. But now he begins to assail Desdemo- 
 na with the most artful inuendos. She is from Venice 
 where it is the custom to be untrue ; she deceived her 
 father, you know she pretended in his presence to 
 tremble at your looks, when she loved you most, a 
 statement which has increased force from the parting 
 admonition of her father. As preparatory to the final 
 and culminating charge, Iago renews his warning against 
 jealousy. But this third point the Moor anticipates, 
 so well prepared has he been, and showing that it was 
 always in his mind. It is the distinction of race. Hard- 
 ly is it hinted by him, when Iago catches up the unfin- 
 ished thought and dwells upon it with terrific emphasis. 
 How unnatural, horrible, the union between man and 
 woman of different complexion and clime ! and hence 
 how much m.re ready will she be to break it, after be- 
 coming disgusted ! We see with what effect this re- 
 proach takes hold of Othello in his succeeding solilo- 
 quy. It recalls all the bitterness of many years, the 
 taunts of Brabantio, finally the collision resting upon 
 this very basis, which he has just passed through. Des- 
 
i io Shakespeare" s Tragedies. 
 
 demona broke over all social distinction of nation and 
 race, here is the retribution, wanton jealousy. The 
 greater her sacrifice, the more unnatural does it seem 
 and the more suspected she becomes. Moreover we 
 catch a glimpse of that to which this jealousy will dead : 
 destruction for himself and for the loved one rather 
 than be so dishonored. The passion jealousy rests upon 
 the monogamic nature of marriage ; when that relation 
 is disturbed, jealousy will and ought to arise in all its 
 intensity. Another element is added in the case of 
 Othello, springing from his military career: honor. 
 He can not endure shame and reproach, he who has 
 never had any taint cast upon his courage or reputation. 
 
 The passion has overwhelmed him, he can not do or 
 think of anything else, his occupation is gone. So 
 Iago knows, not all the drowsy medicines of the world 
 will restore to him peace of mind. Iago indeed has 
 obtained his knowledge from experience, in fact, his 
 own present activity has the same root. For a moment 
 Othello reacts, suspects, notices that no positive proofs 
 have been produced, only surmises. He turns upon 
 Iago and grasps him by the throat, yet how can he con- 
 tinue his suspicion, how can he blame Iago ? Did not 
 the latter warn him of these very consequences ? One 
 word from his Ancient- therefore makes him release his 
 hold. Othello must believe that Iago has been honest 
 with him, once more Iago speaks of his passion, a 
 thought that cuts the Moor through and through, 
 whose truth he can not deny. 
 
 Othello will have more direct proofs than surmise, 
 Iago is ready with them. He then narrates the dream of 
 Cassio, which Othello of course has no means of veri- 
 fying. But the charge is direct, plain, and based upon 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. i 1 1 
 
 an occurrence. Next comes the apparently complete 
 demonstration : the handkerchief. Here is a fact 
 which Othello does verify sufficiently to discover that 
 Desdemona has it not in her possession. Still whether 
 Cassio has received it or not, he can not verify as long 
 as they are asunder. Finally the trick wherein Othello 
 overhears the conversation about Bianca and thinks it 
 is about Desdemona seems to him to be an acknowl- 
 edgement of guilt from the mouth of Cassio himself. 
 It ought to be added, that before this Iago has made 
 the direct charge, that Cassio has revealed to him Des 
 demona's infidelity. Othello is so overcome that he 
 falls into a swoon, and then afterward through the words 
 of the Lieutenant he seems to get a complete confirma- 
 tion of lago's statement. Othello is now resolved, his 
 mad suspicion has been wrought up to the point where 
 no explanations can mitigate its ferocity. He investi- 
 gates, but his resolution is already taken; no declara- 
 tions of Emilia, whose character he can not trust, and 
 no denials of Desdemona, who is the person suspected, 
 can shake his belief. The passion has taken too deep 
 a hold, he will not and can not withdraw himself from 
 its grasp. The plan of Iago has reached its climax; he 
 began with faint surmise, he proceeded to direct asser- 
 tion, and lastly he has given what seems to be a demon- 
 stration to the senses. 
 
 Two persons, Emilia and Cassio have now revealed 
 themselves fully, and we are enabled to ascertain their 
 function in the play. In regard to Emilia she makes 
 no pretence to virtue as her principle in life, indeed she 
 quite acknowledges her own infidelity. We have al- 
 ready seen with what contempt she was treated by her 
 husband; in her character and declarations is found a 
 
1 1 2 Shakespeare's tragedies. 
 
 complete justification of his suspicion, though she nat- 
 urally denies to him the truth of the charge. Before 
 she was submissive, but now she requites his disrespect 
 in full measure; she also intimates that he is untrue to 
 the marriage relation. This ill-starred couple therefore 
 have already passed through the experience of Othello 
 and Desdemona, and both show that they are well ac 
 quainted with all the manifestations of jealousy. 
 
 But her most peculiar trait is her insight into the 
 whole spiritual network of Iago's plans ; she thus is an 
 explanation of her husband to a certain extent. In the 
 first place, she at once comprehends the exact nature if 
 Othello's passion; she declares that her inference is 
 from the similar behavior of Iago. Secondly, she stes 
 that some person has excited the Moor's jealousy, it 
 could not have arisen of itself in his bosom. Thirdly, 
 she is certain that Iago is this person, though she does 
 not say so openly, and she gives him several secret 
 thrusts. The motives which impelled Iago and the 
 grounds up.n which he based his success appear to be 
 distinctly apprehended by this strange, shrewd woman, 
 whose redeeming traits are her devotion to Desdemona 
 and her courageous defence of innocence. 
 
 •Gassio has always fared well, receiving the greatest 
 praise from even ministerial critics, notwithstanding his 
 scandalous relation to Bianca. it is hard to tell why 
 he has been so lauded, unless the reason be found i» 
 the temperance speech which he makes after being cash 
 iered forgetting drunk. Soberness is apt ro bring such 
 repentance, along with resolutions to reform. He ako 
 laments the loss of reputation, by which he clearly docs 
 not mean reputation for morality and decency, but the 
 empty bauble of military glory. It is true that he is a 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. iij 
 
 favorite of the simple-hearted Desdemona, but on ac 
 count of his characrer he is employed as the instrument 
 of her destruction. 
 
 The third part of the play, the Retribution, follows. 
 The tragic preparation of the previous portions is car- 
 ried to the consummation. First Roderigo is led 
 to assail Cassio, but is slain by Iago. It is his just de- 
 sert, tor he has willed and tried to execute both adul- 
 tery and murder. Desdemona is killed bv the Moor, 
 jealousy has done its worst, has slain its most beloved 
 object. The ground for her fate has been already 
 stated ; she violated the conditions of the Family in 
 marrying a husband of a different race. Othello him- 
 self feels that she has shocked the strongest instincts of 
 nature, by her conduct ; hence he can easily be brought 
 to believe her untrue ; that is, jealousy is sure to arise 
 under such circumstances. It can not be her disregard 
 of the parental will which brings on her tragic fate. The 
 second and subordinate motive of Othello's jealousy, 
 namely his previous incontinence, can of course have 
 nothing to do with the guilt of Desdemona. That has 
 its baleful effect upon his character, as has already been 
 shown ; it brings upon him a tearful retribution, and 
 determines the method of lago's revenge. Still a man 
 may be fired with jealousy and yet may not be readv to 
 destroy its object. A third element is added to Othel- 
 lo's character, honor. It is intimately connected with 
 his military life. The soldier always prefers death to 
 what he deems dishonor; he would. rather destroy the 
 dearest existence and be destroyed himself than be 
 stained with disgrace. Hence when Othello is convin- 
 ced of Desdemona's guilt, he must proceed to kill her. 
 Iago is unmasked, the whole breadth of his wicked 
 
114 Shakespeare s 'Tragedies. 
 
 plan is exposed mainly by his wife Emilia. It has been 
 before noted how completely sin fathomed the design 
 of her husband; she is indeed the reflection of his spir- 
 itual nature. Now she glances through the entire 
 scheme of villany ; Iago knows her sharp insight, he 
 tries to stop her speech, but, when he cannot, stabs her. 
 The truth flashes upon the mind of Othello, he is ready 
 to practice upon himself that severe justice which he 
 imagined that he was employing against others ; honor 
 too will no longer permit him to live. As he slew a 
 Turk once who traduced the State, so now he will slay 
 himself who has acted so as to deserve the same fate. 
 There seems some design of the Poet in one incident 
 Othello attempts but is not permitted to slay Iago ; the 
 latter has really suffered a greater injury from the Moor 
 than he has inflicted ; he cannot therefore receive his 
 punishment from the hands of Othello 
 
 This tragedy deals essentially with one relation of 
 the Family, that of husband and wife, though the fath- 
 er of Desdemona appears for a short time. There are 
 three pairs all of which represent in regular gradation 
 negative phases of marriage. First come Othello and 
 Desdemona. a unity resting on love and fidelity, but 
 which is nevertheless contrary to a necessary condition 
 of the Family. Hence their tie is disrupted and both 
 perish. The second couple is Iago and Emilia, who 
 are married, but have no emotional basis for their 
 union; both are certainly wanting in love, and both 
 are probably wanting in fidelity. They too are de 
 stroyed. The third pair is Cassio and Bianca, who are 
 unmarried but still represent the purely sensuous rela- 
 tion of the sexes in its hostility to the possible existence 
 of the Family. They both are preserved ; the Poet 
 
Shakespeare s 'Tragedies. i i 5 
 
 would seem to indicate that they had committed no 
 tragic violation of an institution which they had never 
 entered. Then there are various cross relations of 
 these individuals which give other negative phases of 
 married life, as that of Othello and Emilia; the pecu- 
 liar attitude of Roderigo towards Desdemona must also 
 be classed as one of these manifestations. In general 
 the conjugal bond of the Family has here its various 
 collisiuns portrayed, and this drama may therefore be 
 named the Tragedy of Husband and Wife. 
 
Shakespeare 's tragedies. 117 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 The supernatural tinge which is given to Macbeth is 
 always felt to be one of its most effective qualities. It 
 transports us into a world so different from our own, 
 that sometimes we are at a loss to explain the acts and 
 beliefs of its characters, but the mystery always height- 
 ens the impression. • The coloring throughout is the 
 same; it belongs not merely to one person, but it is 
 the element which envelops the whole play. All move 
 in a world of imagination, in which man dwells among 
 the weird forms of his own creation. The Poet has 
 produced this wonderful effect in two ways. In the 
 first place nature, whenever it is introduced, is made to 
 prognosticate moral or spiritual occurrences and con- 
 flicts ; it exists only as the sign of the future deed, it 
 is filled with human purposes. The raven, the owl, 
 the cricket betoken darkly what is to come; the wind 
 and tempest, the raging elements always foreshadow 
 the struggles of men. The minor characters in partic- 
 ular manifest this tendency, and thus show the popular 
 consciousness. But in the second place the converse 
 procedure is far more effective and hence far more 
 prominent in the present drama. That is, the internal 
 spirit projects its own workings into external forms, 
 which rise up before it with all the certainty of a real 
 object. Such are the Weird Sisters, the products of 
 
1 1 8 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 the imagination of those who behold them, but of the 
 imagination which can not recognize its own shapes as 
 distinct from actual things. These two processes are 
 the complements of each other to a certain extent, the 
 one unfolds the internal out of the external, the other 
 unfolds the external out of the internal. Both indicate 
 the supremacy of the imagination, whose great charac- 
 teristic is to find in nature or create out of itself 
 those objective forms which express the activities of 
 mind. 
 
 It will be seen that man is thus controlled from with- 
 out, by the dim forebodings of the physical world or by 
 the phantoms of his own brain. A realm beyond human 
 power or consciousness seems-to exercise a controlling 
 influence over the affairs of life. But let not the other 
 side be forgotten : it is a genuine attempt of the indi- 
 vidual in a certain stage of culture to find or create 
 some expression for what is true within him. Such a 
 theme however is essentially epical, for it is the Epos 
 which exhibits its characters as determined by external 
 powers, by the god or the demon, by the fairy or the 
 angel. The drama on the contrary portrays man as 
 acting through himself, as ruled by his own wishes, mo- 
 tives, ends, principles; hence in it the above mentioned 
 instrumentalities of the Epos must be always subordin- 
 ated and explained into a subjective element. Shakes- 
 peare has accordingly shown the inner movement of the 
 mind alongside of the outward influence of the Weird 
 Sisters ; both are in fact different expressions of the 
 same thing. There is thus a twofoldness running 
 through the play, a double reflection of the same con 
 tent; the reason whereof is that characters which are 
 controlled by the shapes of their own imagination are 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 119 
 
 portrayed, and hence it must be manifested what they 
 seem to behold and what they really do behold. 
 
 The drama can therefore be divided into two distinct 
 worlds : the supernatural and the natural. These 
 terms are not completely antithetic, but they a're suffi- 
 cient to indicate the meaning which is intended to be 
 conveyed. The supernatural world is that of the 
 Weird Sisters who seem to enter the action from the 
 outside and direct its, course. They appear to Macbeth 
 twice, the essential turning-points of his career are thus 
 marked. The first time they incite him to guilt, the 
 second time they lead him to retribution. Their two 
 appearances thus divide the tragedy into its usual dou- 
 ble movement which unfolds the crime and then its 
 punishment. The natural world is composed of two 
 well-defined groups, In the first group are those whom 
 the Weird Sisters determine: Banquo, Macbeth, and 
 less directly and less strongly Lady Macbeth. They 
 manifest a regular gradation in their relations toward 
 this external power : Banquo resists its temptations 
 wholly, Lady Macbeth yields to these wholly, or rather 
 brings to their aid her own strength of will, Macbeth 
 fluctuates, resisting at first, but finally yielding. These 
 characters also manifest the influence of imagination 
 with greater or less intensity ; they have in particular 
 the double element above-mentioned, for they are im- 
 pelled both by external shapes and by internal motives. 
 The second group of the natural world comprises Dun- 
 can and the remaining persons of the play who do not 
 come in contact with the Weird Sisters nor are directly 
 influenced by their utterances. But this group is for 
 the most part set in motion by the first group of the 
 natural world, both move along together at first and 
 
120 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 then collide. The external element thus reaches through 
 the entire play ; the first impulse is given by the Weird 
 Sisters, is received by one set of characters, through 
 these is transmitted to a still different set of characters, 
 who finally re-act, punish the usurper and restore the 
 rightful king. The first group, it ought to be added, 
 disintegrates within itself, for Banquo refuses to listen 
 to the advances of Macbeth, seeks to avenge the mur- 
 der of Duncan, and at last is destroyed by his comrade 
 in arms. 
 
 The first thread, that of the Weird Sisters, can now 
 be taken up and developed in the first part of the gen- 
 eral movement of the play. These beings dwell in a 
 realm of their own, distinct, complete. Three things 
 concerning them are to be noted : Their physical sur- 
 roundings, their corporeal appearance, and their moral 
 qualities. Their coming is in thunder, lightning and 
 rain, their home seems to be in the tempest, in the 
 wild convulsions of nature ; their attendants are the 
 lower, and often repulsive animals. In bodily aspect 
 they appear to represent the Ugly ; they are withered, 
 bony hags, unnatural monstrosities without sex, oppo- 
 site in every respect to the beautiful human form. Thus 
 the negative elements of nature are manifested in them 
 and in the atmosphere which envelops them. Corres- 
 ponding to their looks and to their surroundings is their 
 moral character; to them fair is foul and foul is fair; 
 they are portrayed in a state of hostility to man and 
 what is useful to him ; their delight is in darkness, con- 
 fusion, destruction. Malice and revenge enter deeply 
 into their disposition ; in general, they exhibit an in- 
 imical power which is directed against mankind exter- 
 nally, and their world seems to include the hostile 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 121 
 
 phases of both nature and spirit. The storms around 
 them and their own dispositions are equally charged 
 with harmful threatenings. 
 
 But their chief attribute is the gift of prophecy. 
 This completes their influence, the influence of a pre- 
 diction which is believed to be true, upon human con- 
 duct. If the conviction is once settled that the prom- 
 ise will- turn out as foretold, it becomes usually a 
 wonderful Incentive to action ; indeed a prophecy may 
 force its own fulfillment merely through its influence 
 upon the mind. When Lady Macbeth says, "thou 
 shalt be what thou art promised," it is manifest that she 
 is going to do all in her power to make the prophetic 
 utterance of the Weird Sisters a reality. Macbeth 
 too is driven by the same impulse ; once however he 
 intimates the fatalistic view which would paralyze his 
 activitv ; 
 
 "II chance will have me king, why chance may crown me 
 Without my stir." 
 
 But this was one of his fluctuations which are carried 
 through the whole First Act. Banquo too is power- 
 fully wrought upon by the same influence, but he can 
 not be torn from his moral anchorage. Hence the sub- 
 jective impression created by a prediction which is be- 
 lieved to be true, is an important element in estimating 
 these characters. 
 
 A question is likely to arise here in the mind of the 
 reader. Why are such beings endowed with the gift of 
 prophecy ? There is no doubt but that it can, be logi- 
 cally inferred from their nature. They represent the 
 totality of conditions, internal and external, which de- 
 termine conduct to evil ; impart to that totality a voice, 
 and you have the prophetic Weird Sister. Given all 
 
122 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 the circumstances, the recurrence must take place ; if 
 then all these circumstances can find utterance, that ut- 
 terance must be an announcement of the event which is 
 to happen. The powers which control and impel the 
 individual are united together into an external form 
 and endowed with speech and personality in the case of 
 the Weird Sister. When she gives expression to her 
 own essence, it must be a prophecy, since she is just 
 that which determines what is to be. Hence the Poet 
 has introduced these existences also to foretell, that is 
 their ultimate principle. It must also be remembered 
 that the gift of prophecy is a natural rather than a spir- 
 itual endowment ; the individual feels in the surround- 
 ing circumstances that which is to come; it is not so 
 much a -clear conscious knowledge, as a dark presenti- 
 ment. Undoubtedly the present has within it the 
 seeds of the future; let the totality of influences work 
 upon a keenly receptive spirit gifted with a strong im- 
 agination, and we have the seer. He is not the thinker 
 who can deduce the future as the logical result of the 
 present, but he is one who feels the Whole and sees its 
 consequences and expresses them in highly wrought sym- 
 bolical language. With the growth of the Under- 
 standing prophecy passes away for two reason : its place 
 is supplied by a different faculty, and it loses its credit 
 through the deception practised in its name. Such was 
 its history among the old Greeks and Hebrews. But 
 the prophet is still found among all peoples living in 
 intimate connection with Nature, for his is a mainly 
 natural function. 
 
 Such in general seems to be the purport of the Weird 
 Sisters: an external personification of the influences 
 which impel the individual to evil. Now what are these 
 
Shakespeare's "Tragedies. 123 
 
 influences ? The reader can easily ascertain them at the 
 beginning of the play : a rebellion, two victorious gen- 
 erals, a weak king who owes his kingdom to their valor, 
 and who could not resist their power, were they to turn 
 against him. What would be more likelv to stir up 
 ambitious thoughts concerning the throne ? Then 
 comes the prophecy with its partial fulfillment when 
 Macbeth is made Thane of Cawdor. Here too our cre- 
 dulity is not very heavily taxed, for can anything be 
 more natural than that Macbeth should receive the es- 
 tates and title of the rebel whom he had put down ? It 
 will thus be manifest that these mysterious prophecies 
 are the direct product of the circumstances, are just the 
 thoughts most likely to arise in the minds of the two 
 heroes as they return from their victory. Their ambi- 
 tion is appealed to most powerfully, will they yield to 
 its promptings? That depends upon their subjective 
 nature, and hence from this point each will show his 
 own character, which will be developed in its proper 
 place. 
 
 Another difficulty now springs up for adjustment. If 
 the Weird Sisters only represent that which is given in 
 another form, are they not superflous in the drama ? 
 To come directly to the issue : What is the purpose for 
 which the Poet employs these shapes ? The answer 
 must give the most important point for the proper com- 
 prehension of the play. // lies in the character ofBanquo 
 and Macbeth to see such spectres. Hence they are abso- 
 lutely necessary for the characterization. The Weird 
 Sisters are beheld by those two persons alone, and it 
 must be considered as the deepest phase of their nature 
 that they behold the unreal phantoms. Both have the 
 same temptation, both are endowed with a strong i mag- 
 
1 24 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 ination, both witness the same apparition. In other 
 words, the external influences which impel to evil, to 
 ambitious thoughts, to future kingship are the same for 
 both. In their excited minds, these influences take the 
 form of the Weird Sisters. Such is the design of the 
 Poet, he thus gives us at once an insight into the pro- 
 foundest trait of their characters. In no other way 
 could he portray so well the tendency to be controlled 
 and victimized by the imagination, which sets up its 
 shapes as actual, and then misleads men into following 
 its fantastic suggestions. Lady Macbeth also is in- 
 fluenced by the Weird Sisters, though she had no im- 
 mediate intercourse with them. 
 
 There is still another question which will probably 
 be asked in this connection : Why has not the Poet 
 himself openly told us what he means? He could easi- 
 ly have explained the matter for his audience in a sepa- 
 rate scene, in a soliloquy, or in almost any way. It is 
 true that the reader who carefully weighs and compares 
 the natural and supernatural threads will have no diffi- 
 culty in finding the secret. Still the author has scrup- 
 ulously guarded the reality of the Weird Sisters ; when- 
 ever they appear, they are treated as positive objective 
 existences. Mark the fact that two persons behold 
 them at the same time, address them and are addressed 
 by them. Now if they were seen only by one person 
 or by each person at different times, there would be no 
 riddle, everybody would at once say, it is a subjective 
 phantom. Such is the case when the ghost of Banquo 
 appears to Macbeth but is seen by nobody else, though 
 a number of guests with Lady Macbeth are present 
 Here then is no problem. The Poet has therefore ta- 
 ken care to preserve the air of reality in these shapes. 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 125 
 
 For such a procedure he has a most excellent reason, 
 one that lies at the very basis of tragedy. He wishes 
 to place his audience under the same influences as his 
 hero, and involve them in the same doubts and con- 
 flicts. We too must look upon the Weird Sisters with 
 the eyes of Macbeth and Banquo; we may not believe 
 in them, or we may be able to explain them, still the 
 great dramatic object is to portray characters which do 
 behold them and believe in them. The audience there- 
 fore must feel the same problem in all its depth and 
 earnestness, and must be required to face the enigma of 
 these appearances. For a character can only be tragic 
 to the spectators when thev are assailed bv its difficul- 
 ties and involved in its collision. It would have de- 
 stroyed the whole effect of the Weird Sisters, had their 
 secret been plainly shown from the beginning. In fact 
 when the audience stand above the hero and are made ac- 
 quainted with all his complications, mistakes and weak- 
 nesses, the realm of comedv begins, the laugh is excited 
 instead of the tear. We make merry over men pur- 
 suing that which we know to be a disguise or a shadow. 
 To persons who can remain uninfluenced bv their im- 
 agination, this representation may appear ridiculous 
 even in its present shape. Few people however have 
 so much passivity and so little poetry. 
 
 Such seems to be the meaning of the Weird Sisters 
 and tne grounds tor their employment by the Poet. It 
 is to be observed that every explanation of them must 
 show that they are subjective forms in the minds of 
 those who see them. That is just the purport of their 
 interpretation ; otherwise they can be left simply as they 
 are, in their objective reality. He who believes in 
 ghosts, or thinks that Shakespeare believed literally in 
 
126 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 ghosts, has no difficulty to solve and hence needs no ex- 
 planation. Still further, those who hold that the Poet 
 merely employed an existing superstition for external 
 effect without intending to put any sense into these 
 shapes have also got rid of the problem, and it may be 
 added, have got rid of Shakespeare too. 
 
 The play very properly opens with the witch scene 
 which represents the mustering of the hostile influences. 
 The Weird Sisters want to meet Macbeth, no other 
 person is mentioned by them, for he is the one who is 
 mainly determined by their power and is the central 
 character of the drama. They are the primordial forces 
 which set the whole work in motion ; this impulse be- 
 ing given, we must now be introduced to the natural 
 world, the object upon which the supernatural elements 
 exert their influence. 
 
 This is the second thread whose development must 
 now be given extending to the second appearance of the 
 Weird Sisters. Here we shall keep our attention on 
 Macbeth as the chief figure around which the others 
 move. His career will be shown in three different cri- 
 ses which however flow from one another in regular or- 
 der : the conflict with himself, the murder of Duncan, 
 the murder of Banquo. Each takes up about an act, 
 and the three hence occupy the first three acts nearly. 
 The internal conflict exhibits Macbeth struggling with 
 his own conviction, for he knows that his deed is wrong, 
 and also that retribution will follow; "we still have 
 judgment here" says he. But the Weird Sisters com- 
 bined with his wife are victorious over his moral na- 
 ture aided by Banquo ; both the former appeal to his 
 ambition, which he himself confesses to be the real mo- 
 tive of his conduct : 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 127 
 
 "I have no spur 
 To prick the sides of mine intent but only 
 Vaulting ambition." 
 
 Which can be taken as his own subjective interpreta- 
 tion of the Weird Sisters. The conviction now being 
 overborne, the deed follows, namely the murder of the 
 King. Herein he violates not only his own profound- 
 est belief, but also contradicts his former life. He once 
 put down traitors, now he has become a traitor himself, 
 his act has annihilated his previous honorable career. 
 He assails the existence of the State, which he one- 
 saved. But here he cannot stop. He proceeds to de- 
 stroy the man who will not be a traitor with him, who 
 will not also violate his own conviction and contradict 
 his own legal acts. Banquo is true to the old King, 
 and is ready to avenge his death, he cannot therefore be 
 true to Macbeth. The latter also must get rid of those 
 who do not accept his principle of treason and murder, 
 they are a standing cause of fear and reproach. Thus 
 it will be seen that Macbeth, the former savior of the 
 King, not only slays him, but also slays those who 
 would save him. Macbeth, swayed by external in- 
 fluences working upon a favorable disposition, has 
 turned into the opposite of himself, has become the 
 complete contradiction both of his former action and of 
 his present conviction. 
 
 Still that conviction is not lost nor indeed inactive ; 
 those stern words have expressed his profoundest faith 
 
 "that we but teach 
 
 Bloody instructions which, being taught, return 
 To plague the inventor ; this even-handed justice 
 Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice 
 To our own lips." 
 
128 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 If ever there was belief in retribution, it is declared 
 here. But how will this conviction make itself felt? 
 Through the imagination. It has already been seen how 
 Macbeth projects his internal states of mind into shapes 
 seemingly real. Imagination is his peculiar psycholog- 
 ical trait, ambition worked through the imagination, and 
 retribution must work through the imagination. Hence 
 we can account for the voices which he hears after the 
 murder of Duncan, and the sights which he sees after 
 the murder of Banquo. That mental quality which be- 
 holds the Weird Sisters, is the same as that w!iich be- 
 holds air-drawn daggers and ghosts. This is therefore 
 the deep consistency of the character. At first tempta- 
 tion in the forms of the imagination assists in leading 
 him into crime, and then remorse punishes him also in 
 the forms of the imagination. The appearances always 
 accompany his guilty act, they are the Fairies which he 
 tries to drive away by crime but which always return 
 with tenfold terror. 
 
 We can now take the play in hand and trace these 
 principles in its incidents with greater minuteness. We 
 find at the very beginning that there has been a terrific 
 collision in the State; a great revolt has taken place in 
 which many of the King's subjects aided by foreigners 
 have participated. But this revolt has been put down 
 mainly by the strong arm of Macbeth, assisted howev- 
 er by Banquo. The breach is healed, the throne is 
 saved, peace again reigns. Such is the background 
 upon which the action is portrayed. Now comes 
 the internal struggle, and we are to witness the in- 
 fluences which will turn Macbeth in the most direct 
 contradiction with himself. What has he been doing ? 
 Putting down traitors to the King. But next he be 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 129 
 
 comes himself a traitor to the same King, does the very 
 thing for which he had just destroyed an army. What 
 brought about this change ? The tracing of this devel- 
 opment in his character will constitute the first crisis of 
 this second thread, terminating in the surrender of his 
 own conviction. 
 
 Banquo and Macbeth are returning from the scene of 
 their triumph, rilled with the glory of their deed. 
 What honors now are not within their reach ! They are 
 truly greater than the King, they have saved his realm. 
 Then the Weird Sisters appear in their horrid shapes, 
 and prophesy the future of the two warriors. The one 
 shall be King himself, the other shall have children who 
 shall be Kings. But the moment the shapes are asked 
 concerning their origin and purpose, they vanish. Both 
 the men are skeptical at first, yet both are pleased, the 
 utterances of the Weird Sisters seem to harmonize quite 
 with their own thoughts. Now comes the sudden con- 
 firmation, Macbeth is the Thane of Cawdor just as one 
 of the witches hailed him, the Weird Sisters are hence- 
 forth regarded as prophetic. 
 
 What shall we do with this passage ? Here is the 
 point where the supernatural world touches the natural, 
 and hence it constitutes the main difficulty of the play. 
 The Poet has told us enough that we can see his mean- 
 ing, though he is by no means going to declare openly 
 his mystery. It is a prob'em which we must and can 
 solve. To repeat what was before indicated, the ambi- 
 tious feelings and possibilities of both these men are 
 given an objective form by their imagination, which to 
 them has all the force of a reality. It is like a dream 
 when the image is actual. For the imagination gives 
 full validity to its content, if the reason be not present 
 
130 Shakespeare s 1'ragedies. 
 
 and correct its vagaries. Not a few persons in ordinary 
 life take that which they imagine, to be real. Under 
 strong excitement it is possible to perhaps every per- 
 son. At any rate such is the mental quality of Mac- 
 beth and Banquo, thev project their own imaginings in- 
 to reality, they see witches. Even they at first question 
 the existence of these beings. It is curious thar the lat- 
 ter disappear so speedily when their origin is sought 
 for. That can evidently not be given to the two men, 
 for it would lead back to their own minds, and thus 
 would destroy the objective reality of these shapes. 
 The situation of Macbeth and Banquo, as the victorious 
 generals of a weak King calls up very naturally vague 
 feelings of future greatness. That which the witches 
 prophesy is in such complete harmony with the subject- 
 ive feelings natural to the occasion, that the one is a 
 picture of the other. But it lies in the character of the 
 two men that these feelings take the form here repre- 
 sented. The deeds imagined, such as the murder of 
 the King and usurpation of the realm, are repugnant to 
 the moral natures of both, hence the Weird Sisters are 
 evil and ugly to both. Both too have that predomi- 
 nance of imagination which tricks them into taking its 
 shapes for realities. This trait, is fundamental and is 
 preserved throughout the play. 
 
 But though both possess the above-mentioned moral 
 element, yet each has it in a different degree. Now their 
 characters begin to separate and to individualize them- 
 selves. When the witches have announced the future 
 greatness of the two heroes, Banquo tramples all wicked 
 designs or even wicked surmisings under foot, his 
 moral nature asserts its complete superiority over the 
 promptings of ambition. Not so Macbeth. He still 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 1 3 1 
 
 cherishes the thought, dismisses it at one moment, and 
 calls it un the next moment, is rapt in his own fancies 
 while Banquo has solved the question for once and for 
 all. He regards the spectres as instruments of dark- 
 ness and warns Macbeth against "trusting home" their 
 prophetic utterance. The latter after much struggling 
 resolves to wait for the present, but when the King ap- 
 points his own son as his successor, Macbeth's feelings 
 are aroused anew, and he himself confesses to his "deep 
 and black desires." 
 
 But the prophecy has set another influence at work 
 which is irresistible. Lady Macbeth will now supply 
 the element the lack of which caused such hesitation in 
 her husband. She is introduced reading a letter which 
 relates the promises of the Weird Sisters; these prom- 
 ises are just what she desired. But she knows the char- 
 acter of her husband and fears that he will still be irres- 
 olute since the conflict between the good and the bad 
 is so evenly balanced in his mind. He has the ambi- 
 tion but hesitates at the wickedness. Her function now 
 is to pour "her spirits into his ear" and destroy every 
 scruple. But even she feels her sex to be inconsistent 
 with cruelty, she therefore abjures womanhood. Her 
 address to the "spirits" and murdering ministers would 
 show however a lurking belief in the world beyond, and 
 an underlying foundation in the imagination. This 
 hereafter becomes more apparent. 
 
 Macbeth in his soliloquy gives the subject a final 
 consideration, and comes to the conclusion not to kill 
 Duncan. He would risk the world to come if he were 
 sure that he would escape in the present world. But 
 he expresses his profoundest conviction that there is al- 
 ways on earth a retribution for the wicked deed. This 
 
132 Shakespeare s Tragedies. 
 
 too, it may be added, is the Poet's doctrine, and that 
 upon which he bases his tragedy. Macbeth's firm be- 
 lief in retribution shows that he sinned against light, 
 and the play itself is a striking illusrration of the same 
 principle. But no sooner has he resolved not to mur- 
 der the King when the wife appears. She reinforces 
 with her determination the evil side of her husband's 
 character. Her argument is that of immorality. You 
 are coward not to be that which you desire to be. Now 
 morality is quite the opposite, namely, to suppress de- 
 sire when inconsistent with what is right. His first an- 
 swer is the true one: "I dare do all that may become a 
 man, who dares do more is none." But she aiding his 
 ambition which had almost turned the scale without her, 
 changes his mind. His hesitation was caused by the 
 conflict between conviction and desire, she reinforces de- 
 sire with her intense purpose. Banquo subordinates 
 his desires and even his thoughts to his moral convic- 
 tion, while Lady Macbeth tramples upon every moral 
 consideration to attain the goal of her ambition. Mac- 
 beth hangs between the two, he has the conviction of 
 Banquo but the ambition of his wife. She says: 
 
 "Art thou afeard 
 To be the same in thine own act and valor 
 As thou art in desire ?" 
 
 That is, it is cowardly not to follow your desire. This 
 really did not convince Macbeth as is shown by his an- 
 swer, but it made overpowering the evil element in him 
 which was already very strong. Her "undaunted met- 
 tle" he yields to, her strong will added to the elements 
 already in him conquers. 
 
 Again the Poet touches the old chord, the similar 
 
Shakespeare s tragedies. 133 
 
 and the dissimilar traits in the character of Banquo and 
 Macbeth. Both have the same strong imagination, 
 Banquo is disturbed by wicked dreams and haunted by 
 bad fancies during the day, but he vigorously suppress- 
 es every sinful inclination. Macbeth also is possessed 
 with his imagination ; his thought and his purposes at 
 once take on the form of an objective image. He sees 
 a dagger which directs him to the King, hovering in the 
 air, when he has resolved upon the murder. The 
 bloody business always informs thus to his eyes. 
 Though he questions the reality and seems at times to 
 believe in the unreality of these shapes, still they have 
 none the less power over him. But the resolution re- 
 mains, the King is murdered. What then ? The same 
 imagination rises up in tenfold power and becomes the 
 instrument of punishment, the weapon of conscience. 
 It was said hat Macbeth believed in retribution, now 
 it appears in the fearful voice which cries 
 
 "Glamis hath murdered sleep and therefore Cawdor 
 Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more." 
 
 For he has slain repose in the sleeping Duncan. The 
 utterance is fulfilled to the letter. Macbeth is harassed 
 with his thoughts, he gets rest no more. His wife 
 again performs her function, she controls his wild imag- 
 ination and shames as cowardice his fear of his own pic- 
 tures. Still even she has manifested some signs of 
 weakness, some indications that she is not free from the 
 same influence. External prognostications have been 
 noticed by her as the croak of the raven, the scream of 
 the owl, the cry of the cricket ; she has addressed too a 
 world of spirits beyond; she also can not murder on 
 account of an image which appears to her mind resem- 
 
1 34 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 bling her father. Other indications will hereafter occur. 
 But toward her husband she always manifests the cooi 
 understanding which suppresses such appearances. In 
 her deepest nature there is however a stratum of the 
 same mental quality. The content of Macbeth's imag- 
 ination is now always retribution. 
 
 The murderous deed becomes known to the outer 
 world which enters at the Porter scene, and suspicion, 
 especially that of tre King's sons at'aches at once to 
 Macbeth. It is also to be noticed, what use is made of 
 superstition. Nature was filled with strife, the imagi- 
 native, superstitious man transfers the conflicts of the 
 spiritual world to physical phenomena. They indicate 
 what lies in the future, both natural and moral occur- 
 rences have the same cause in some external power. 
 The wild night, lamentings in the ajr, the clamor of the 
 obscure bird, darkness in day time the falcon killed by 
 the mousing owl, the horses contending against obe- 
 dience and eating one another are some of the portents 
 which the time brought forth. But in reality it is man 
 who in this manner projects his own thoughts and feel- 
 ings into nature which thus is merely the language to 
 express what is going on within. It must not be judged 
 too harshly, the human mind in certain of its stages has 
 indeed no other means of utterance. It is easy to de- 
 ride it as superstition, but it is better to comprehend 
 it as a genuine though not the most exalted phase of 
 human spirit. 
 
 The extravagant and superfluous talk of Macbeth 
 reveals him to the King's sons as the cause of the mur- 
 der ; it is a very natural inference, for they, genuine 
 mourners, have so little to say that the contrast points 
 to Macbeth as insincere, a noisy dissembler. The 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 135 
 
 fainting of Lady Macbeth may be taken as genuine, as 
 a momentary bursting up of that under current in her 
 character which has already given numerous indications 
 of its existence, and which will at last control her. 
 But the external motives for the continuence of Mac- 
 beth's career of murder are here given. Banquo declares 
 that he will fight against the author of the crime, and 
 even hints the suspicion which afterwards he utters 
 more plainly. Macduff pledges his word to the same 
 course, so do the other lords. 
 
 Duncan is murdered, Macbeth is King through treason. 
 Now the third crisis in his history begins its movement, 
 The difference between him and Banquo has already 
 been noticed; that difference has developed into oppos- 
 ition, nay, into hostility. Starting from the same point, 
 endowed with the same imagination, Banquo has sup- 
 pressed his evil ambition, while Macbeth has allowed 
 the wicked purpose to control him. The result is a 
 conflict between them, for the moral nature of Banquo 
 is outraged at Duncan's murder-: whose author he more 
 truly suspects to be Macbeth, ttence the latter fears 
 the royaly of his nature and his wisdom ; but above all 
 Macbeth feels "that under him my genius is rebuked," 
 referring to the difference in their moral characters. 
 
 Banquo is a prepetual picture held up before his 
 guilty conscience, a continual reminder of that which he 
 ought to have done, a rebuke to his character. 
 
 His excited imagination works upon this theme, and 
 gives him no peace day and night. He mast have Banquo 
 out of the way. But also Banquo was his partner in 
 the prophetic promises of the Weird Sisters, he was to 
 be father to a line of Kings, who would exclude the 
 posterity of Macbeth. His destruction is therefore 
 
ij6 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 resolved upon. Macbeth however falls here into contra- 
 diction with himself as he did in the case of Duncan. He 
 believes the Weird Sisters to have uttered true prophe- 
 cies.yet he is going to nullify them. It is a prophe- 
 cy of theirs which has declared that Banquo's poster- 
 ity will succeed ; acting upon the belief that it is certain 
 to take place, he still proposes to forestall it. With 
 the apparent confidencein the truth and certainty of what 
 is foretold, he will nevertheless prevent it. In other words 
 he now turns against the utterances of the Weird Sisters 
 which he had hitherto followed and which have proven 
 true in his own case. He is himself aware of this con- 
 tradiction when he says 
 
 "Come fate into the list 
 And champion me to the utterance." 
 
 In the bottom of his heart there then was at times some 
 distrust of the witches. Banquo is murdered by hired 
 assassins. In the scene where Macbeth talks with them, 
 there is a somewhat disproportionately long dialogue in 
 which the poet seems desirous of justifying the death 
 of Banquo in a certain degree. The murderers are 
 made to declare that Banquo was their enemy who had 
 inflicted upon them the greatest wrongs. 
 
 The same struggles of the imagination occur after 
 the death of Banquo as took place after the death of 
 Duncan, only with greater intensity. Before it was the 
 imagined voice of retribution, but in the present case 
 the murdered man appears in person, and takes his seat at 
 the table of guests. The imagination now has all the 
 force of reality, it controls Macbeth's action even in 
 the presence of company. Through it Banquo himself 
 returns to earth, reveals his murder and to a certain ex- 
 tent accomplishes his revenge. Macbeth cannot 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 137 
 
 banish his image as he> did the air-drawn dag- 
 ger. The wife again preforms her previous function, 
 that of suppressing the imagination of her husband, 
 but its power has got beyond her control. Then she 
 tries to excuse his conduct to the guests who are excited 
 and full of suspicion ; in fact the secret is as good as told. 
 The power of the imagination has now reached its cli- 
 max, we behold it completely controlling an individual 
 by its phantoms. Macbeth has been fighting them all 
 along, he has sought to destroy them by crime, but that 
 has only aroused them the more. We shall thus find a 
 regular gradation in the influence of the imagination 
 over him, from the first thought or the throne to the 
 murder of Banquo. 
 
 We have now carried down the whole action with its 
 two threads through the first movement which exhibits 
 ths guilt of Macbeth. The theme is in general, his 
 transition from being the savior of the realm into just the 
 opposite ; this transition has been shown in its three lead- 
 ing phases, namely the conflict with himself, with the 
 King, with the loyal supporter of the King. On the one 
 hand, his ambition working through the imagination 
 has created a supernatural world which together with the 
 strength of will of Lady Macbeth has inclined him to 
 the evil side of his nature ; on the other hand his moral 
 conviction, also working through theimagination inflicts 
 upon him along with every act an internal retribution. 
 We are now prepared to take up the second movement. 
 
 The turning point of the drama begins with the 
 second appearance of the Weird Sisters. Macbeth 
 has reached the goal of his ambition through crime, 
 the current now sets in toward punishment. The theme 
 of this second part is therefore retribution, not, how- 
 
138 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 ever, the internal retribution of the imagination which 
 has already been portrayed, but the external retribution 
 which brings home to the guilty man the true equiva- 
 lent of his deeds. Here too we observe the division 
 into the same threads as was noticed in the first move- 
 ment. The supernatural world composed of the Weird 
 Sisters again makes its appearance, retaining its former 
 character but changing to a certain extent its pur- 
 pose. The natural world still has its two groups ; the 
 one of which is made up of Macbeth and his wife, the 
 guilty pair for whom retribution is prepared, though 
 in different ways ; the other of which is composed of 
 the injured fugitives who return with the aid of foreign- 
 ers and avenge their wrongs. 
 
 Before entering upon the main topics, an important 
 question should be brought up and discussed. Mac- 
 beth says that he wishes to go again to the Weird Sisters 
 for a consultation. What are the grounds for this sec- 
 ond interview with them ? The former prophecy has been 
 fulfilled, Macbeth is upon the throne; he naturally 
 asks himself, what has the future in store for me now ? 
 Just as before he projected his thoughts into those pro- 
 pheti; shapes, so must he do at present; this is the pe- 
 culiar element of his character. Moreover two ques- 
 tions disturb him. First, will the promise of the 
 Weird Sisters to Banquo, concerning the latter's pos- 
 terity, be fulfilled ? Macbeth has tried to forestall 
 that prophecy by the murder of Banquo ; yet in his 
 own case a similar prediction has turned out true ; 
 hence he may well be anxious about his success. But 
 the second question is far more important. It is, Will 
 there be any retribution for my deeds ? Macbeth must 
 thus interrogate himself, for it has already been seen 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 139 
 
 that he possesses the strongest faith in retribution. 
 This belief is in reality deeper than his belief in the 
 Weird Sisters, though he tries to cover it and extin- 
 guish it by a reliance upon their prophecies. Such is 
 his mental condition, which will again arouse the activ- 
 ity of his imagination ; as he previously saw and heard 
 the seeresses of the air when returning from the victo- 
 rious field of battle, so he will see and hear them a se- 
 cond time concerning his destiny-. 
 
 Accordingly, the supernatural world — the first thread, 
 appears, A new personage is now introduced into it, 
 Hecate the queen of the witches. Her function is 
 particularly marked ; she is to change the previous 
 course of events. Hence she reproves the Weird Sis- 
 ters for their former favors to Macbeth who is but a 
 "wayward son ;" she will do differently, she proposes to 
 deceive him by magic slights and "draw him on to his 
 confusion ;" her means is to produce in his mind "se- 
 curity," a confident temerity which results from an ab- 
 solute reliance upon a prediction. The "hell-broth" is 
 now cooked before our eyes, all the elements of nature 
 most horrible and hostile to man are thrown into the 
 cauldron, the future is being literallv stewed together 
 out of its diverse ingredients ; the purpose at least of 
 these beings is clearly revealed in the ominous chorus : 
 "double, double toil and trouble." This world has a 
 complete a'ctivity of its own ; though every part may 
 not be symbolical, yet the whole certainly is; in fact 
 the Queen Hecate, who may be considered the supreme 
 power, has not only revealed her design, but also the 
 means of its execution. She represents the new direc- 
 tion of the drama towards retribution. 
 
 These beings are, as before stated, an embodiment 
 
140 Shakespeare s tragedies. 
 
 of the influences which impel the individual to evil. 
 They will drive Macbeth on from one wicked act to 
 another, till they thrust him into the embrace of his 
 punishment. It must not be forgotten that it lies in 
 the character of Macbeth to see such phantoms ; his 
 own subjective temptations and even desires assume 
 these forms. Still the Poet is most, careful in guarding 
 the reality of the Weird Sisters ; he removes them as 
 far as possible from any direct connection with Mac- 
 beth's mental condition. For instance, their prophecy 
 about the moving of Birnam Wood seems in no way 
 to have sprung from his mind, at least consciously ; nor 
 were the circumstances of Macduff's birth known to 
 him, when the prediction was announced that no man 
 "of woman born" would destroy his life. These and 
 other occurrences which are difficult to explain in their 
 particular shape, are in general the Poet's means for giv- 
 ing a strong and unquestioned reality to his airy seer- 
 esses. That his procedure herein is true to the highest 
 conception of Dramatic Art was attempted to be shown 
 in the first part of the present essay. His audience 
 must also have the problem of the Weird Sisters as 
 well as his hero; if their secret were openly proclaimed, 
 the tragic element of the play .would be destroyed. 
 
 Next let us consider what and how the Weird Sisters 
 communicate to Macbeth. In general their utterances 
 are the internal workings of Macbeth's own mind in an 
 imaginative form, which however he himself does not 
 recognize as his own. This is even hinted in the pas- 
 sage where the witch says to him: "He (the apparition) 
 knows thy thought ;" that is, Macbeth's mind was 
 known without his needing to tell what it was. Again 
 he says, "Thou harpst my fear aright," which indicates 
 
Shakespeare's Tragedies. 141 
 
 the exact correspondence between his own mental state 
 and the warning of the phantom. In like manner can 
 be explained the injunctions of the other two appari- 
 tions : "Be bloody, bold and resolute," and "be lion- 
 mettled, proud ;" they spring from his character hard- 
 ened by crime and audacious from success. The two pro- 
 phecies also are an expression of his blind confidence in 
 his own destiny, as "none of woman born shall harm 
 Macbeth," and "Macbeth shall never vanquished be 
 until great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill shall 
 come against him." This whole passage therefore is in 
 harmony with Macbeth's psychological development. 
 
 Another side of the same description must be no- 
 ticed. What is the signification of the three appari- 
 tions which rise up before Macbeth. One is the crowned 
 child Malcolm who will take away his kingdom, 
 another is the bloody child, Macduff, who will slay 
 him ; the third is his own head severed from the body. 
 They prognosticate the fate of Macbeth in its three 
 phases, dethronement, death, decapitation. Yet these 
 phantoms give him advice and determine his conduct. 
 That is, his own destroyers tell him that he cannot be 
 destroyed ; this is just the cause of his destruction. It 
 strengthens his fatal reliance upon his supposed des- 
 tiny, irrespective of the ethical nature of his deeds. 
 
 But in one respect he is disappointed. He learns 
 that Banquo's children and not his own will become 
 the occupants of the throne. He has therefore not 
 succeeded in forestalling the first prophecy of the 
 Weird Sisters ; his murder of Banquo has availed him 
 nothing. Nor ought he to' have expected anything 
 else ; the Weird Sisters could not be made to predict 
 truly in his own case, but falsely in another similar 
 
142 Shakespeare's Tragedies 
 
 case. His failure leads him to curse these prophetic 
 shapes, he is now done with them forever. From this 
 time forward Macbetn seeks no more the Weird Sisters, 
 nor is he harassed any longer with the specters of his 
 imagination. "No more sights," he sternly says ; he 
 will drown his mental phantoms in a whirl of activity : 
 he will fight till every enemv be swept away. At once 
 he proposes to get rid of the suspected Macduff. 
 
 Such is the supernatural world of the second part. 
 Its origin is seen to lie in the fact that the first pro- 
 phecy had run out, and that other questions were press- 
 ing upon Macbeth's mind for an answer. In accord- 
 ance with his peculiar mental trait, his thought and 
 anxiety for the future call up the Weird Sisters in his 
 imagination. Their purpose is distinctly declared to be 
 retribution, which can only be the consequence of his 
 own deeds, and which, it must not be forgotten, is his 
 own deepest conviction. Still he blunts and, destroys 
 that conviction for a time, because he so wishes; hence 
 he clutches the two ambiguous prophecies, or to speak 
 more truly, creates them. Also the response concern- 
 ing the posterity of Banquo which so excites his anger, 
 is nothing but the logic of his own career and of his 
 own thought. 
 
 We shall next consider the natural world in its first 
 group, the guilty couple for whom punishment is now 
 prepared. Lady Macbeth in person is introduced but 
 once, in the famous night-walking scene. The objec- 
 tion is often made that this scene is not motived with 
 sufficient plainness, that the leap into it is not at all 
 accounted for by her preceding conduct. But a careful 
 survey of her previous actions and sayings will refute 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. ' 143 
 
 the charge. It has been above noted that she cites and 
 seems to believe in the prognostications of nature, that 
 she calls up the image of her father when about to 
 murder the grooms and is thereby deterred from the 
 act, that once she gives way to her suppressed emo- 
 tional character and faints. But the most striking in- 
 stance of her belief in the supernatural world is found 
 in the passage where she invokes the "spirits that tend 
 on mortal thoughts," and the "murdering ministers" 
 of the air. The predominance of her imagination is 
 most emphatically brought out in these places ; in this 
 respect she was no doubt intended by the Poet to rank 
 in quite the same category with Macbeth and Banquo. 
 Her self-command however is sufficient to suppress 
 her own tendency to fantastic creation as well as that 
 of her husband. This is just her function in the 
 first part of the drama; in his presence the stern, cool 
 understanding always seems to control her actions ex- 
 cept the one time. But when she is alone, she can not 
 help manifesting the deepest trait of her nature. 
 
 Therefore in her waking moments Lady Macbeth 
 can temporarily crush the workings of her imagination 
 by her colossal strength of will. But the hour comes 
 when this fierce grip is relaxed, wnen the mind is freed 
 from its central controlling power and its activities rush 
 out in all directions like the released winds of Aeolus. 
 Then we may expect that the suppressed imagination 
 will exhibit itself in its native might, or indeed will 
 burst forth with tenfold fury as the fires of the pent-up 
 volcano. The Poet simply gives the fact ; he' brings 
 before us Lady Macbeth awake when this trait is smoth- 
 ered, and Lady Macbeth asleep when it must be mani- 
 fested in its highest potence. There would seem to be 
 
144 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 no very great necessity for delineating any intervening 
 stage of her mind, in fact there is none. 
 
 But what now will be the subject which her imagina- 
 tion will seize upon in sleep ? Note its power over the 
 physical system ; she rises out of bed, walks about, 
 writes upon a paper, speaks aloud, indeed quite equals 
 her waking state. Its theme however will be that 
 which has made the strongest impression upon it, name- 
 ly, the scenes' of that eventful night when Duncan was 
 murdered, together with their consequences. It will 
 reproduce with striking fidelity the two sides of her na- 
 ture which have before been noticed. For in the first 
 place, her self-command appears here adumbrated in 
 her dreams ; she quiets her husband, reproves his fear, 
 suppresses the phantoms of his mind, and directs his 
 act'ons after the murder. But in the second place the 
 great and important element of this representation is 
 the imagination portraying not her assumed but her ac- 
 tual mental condition. The rubbing of her hands to 
 wash out the gory spot and her inability to get them 
 clean, the smell of blood upon them, the sigh when she 
 finds her attempts ineffectual are the most terrific sym- 
 bols of remorse. Again we behold conscience working 
 through the imagination. The doctor, who is the in- 
 terpreter for the audience in this scene, tells the secret : 
 "More needs she, the divine than the physician ;" her 
 ailment is not bodily but spiritual. Also her fluctua 
 tion between the above-mentioned two elements of her 
 character is to be observed, for it is no doubt to a cer- 
 tain extent a picture of what she actually was in her 
 waking state. 
 
 In the case of Lady Macbeth, as well as in the case 
 of her husband, we behold the internal retribution ac- 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 145 
 
 complished throunh the imagination. But her it de- 
 stroys, she can not withstand its attacks nor avoid 
 them by outward activity. We must consider her to 
 have been- ieft alone some length of time, "since his 
 majesty went into the field." She thus was handed 
 over to her own thoughts, no doubt her most terrible 
 enemies. She began with unsexing herself, in which step 
 is contained the germ of her fate; for to unsex the wo- 
 man is to destroy the woman as woman. Abjuring her 
 emotional nature, she proceeded to cruelty and crime; 
 at last we see her in the process of being eaten up by 
 the Furies of her own creation. The exact manner of 
 her death is not given, nor need ic be ; the motive 
 however is most ample ; imagination is her execu- 
 tioner. 
 
 The somewhat prevalent notion of making love the 
 mainspring of Lady Macbeth's actions and of seeing 
 in her the tender, devoted wife who committed the 
 most horrible crimes merely out of affection for her 
 husband is ridiculous and is, in my judgment, contra- 
 dicted by the whole tenor of the play. The very point 
 emphasized in her characterization at the beginning is 
 that she abjured womanhood with its tenderness and 
 love and prayed to be filled "from the crown to the 
 toe, top full of direst cruelty," and her woman's breasts 
 to be milked for gall ! To be the wife is clearly not her 
 highest ambition, that she is already ; but it is to be 
 the queen. There is no consistency or unity in her 
 character, if love be its leading principle. To this pas- 
 sion the husband may justly lay claim, but not the 
 wife who suppresses her emotional nature. 
 
 The second person of this group is Macbeth whose 
 career we shall now take up again and trace to its close. 
 
146 Shakespeare's Tragedies. 
 
 Macduff had excited suspicion by absenting himself 
 from the royal feast, and previously he had sworn with 
 Banquo to avenge the murder of Duncan. But he dis- 
 covers his danger and flees. His wife and children are 
 left behind, and are destroyed in his stead. This is the 
 third great crime of Macbeth. He has quite run 
 through the scale of human guilt; he has destroyed the 
 foundation of State in the murder of the rightful king, 
 he has destroyed loyalty to just authority in the mur- 
 der of Banquo, now he destroys the Family in the 
 murder of its innocent members. Logically his crim- 
 inal career is now complete, consequently the Poet has 
 given no other special case of his cruel acts. Still the 
 process continues and must continue, as is indicated in 
 a general way by the statements that every morn "new 
 /widows howl, new orphans cry" and "the dead man's 
 knell is there scarce asked for whom ?" Every human 
 being; is norf the object of his suspicion, the existence 
 of any individual is conceived to be an act of hostility 
 by the jealous tyrant. For having slain man wantonly, 
 he very truly infers that man is his enemy. He is be- 
 coming in reality what he is logically in the first mur- 
 der, the destroyer of the human race. His act involves 
 the annihilation of the species. In order to escape the 
 monster a general flight from Scotland must take place, 
 which flight will collect the instruments for his destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 The main fact now to be noticed in his character is 
 that he is no longer swayed by his imagination. This 
 change vas indicated at the end of his interview with 
 the Weird Sisters, he is now able to dismiss such 
 "sights" altogether. His outward activity must ab- 
 sorb his mind, for his foes are marching against him ; 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. 147 
 
 the reality before him is quite as terrible as any image 
 can be. But Macbeth himself states clearly the main 
 ground of this remarkable change. Previously he had 
 declared that his dire phantasms were merely the result 
 of his inexperience in crime : 
 
 My strange and self-abuse 
 Is the initiate fear that wants hard use ; 
 We are but young in deed. 
 
 But now he contrasts his present with his former con- 
 dition in this respect : 
 
 I have almost forgot the taste of fears. 
 
 The time has been my senses would have quailed 
 
 To hear a night-shriek ; and my fell of hair 
 
 Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir 
 
 As life were iu't ; I have supped full with horrors; 
 
 Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts 
 
 Cannot once start me. 
 Here is exactly stated the difference between his two 
 mental states and its cause. Familiarity with crime 
 has hardened his thoughts, repetition of guilt has seared 
 his conscience. Hence no retributive ghosts appear af- 
 ter the murder of MacdufFs family. But his whole 
 mind is seared too, it is a desolation ; "life is but a 
 walking shadow," "I have lived long enough," "life is 
 fallen into the sere, the yellow leaf," "I begin to be 
 a weary of the sun," etc. That is, with the cessation 
 of his imagination his spirit is dead, an inward desert, 
 since his imagination was the center of his spiritual ac- 
 tivity. There is, however, one object to which he 
 still shows attachment, it is his wile. She dies, there 
 remains only his dependence upon the two prophecies. 
 These also break down, for though their reality is care- 
 fully maintained, they are simply symbols of his exter- 
 nal reliance upon his imagined destiny, to the disregard 
 
1 48 Shakespeare s Tragedies 
 
 of all ethical conduct. He tries to believe that he will 
 not perish, no matter what he does. Hence the pro- 
 phecies are a delusion, in fact his own delusion. It 
 will thus be seen that both Macbeth and his wife have 
 their common psychological principle in the imagina- 
 tion, though its development in each is just the oppo- 
 site. In the first part of the drama Lady Macbeth 
 suppresses while Macbeth yields to his imagination ; in 
 the second part, the reverse takes place. 
 
 The second group of the natural world, the avengers 
 from abroad, has already appeared in order to inflict 
 upon Macbeth the external retribution for his deeds. 
 The^fugitives from Scotland went to England where the 
 good King Edward reigned in contrast to the wicked 
 King Macbeth. From this happy realm must come 
 the relief, hence its introduction. There is Malcolm, 
 son of the murdered Duncan, and Macduff father of 
 the murdered family, but we miss Fleance son of Ban- 
 quo who ought to be present to make the list of 
 avengers complete. The foreigner Siward is added 
 who however loses his son for his interference. Mac- 
 beth is undeceived first, then perishes fighting bravely. 
 
 The disruption is healed, Malcolm is king, all are re- 
 stored. 
 
 Shakespeare has not introduced a double guilt into 
 this drama, hence the fate of only one series of charac- 
 ters is adequately motived. For the death of Duncan, 
 of Banquo, and of Macduff's family there can be found 
 no justification from their deeds. Critics have sought 
 to make out a case against them, but without success. 
 They have committed no ethical violation worthy of 
 death ; they are innocent beings overwhelmed in a ca- 
 tastrophe from without. And this is deeply consistent 
 
Shakespeare s Tragedies. • 149 
 
 with the form and movement of the play which exhib- 
 its fate, external determination. The Weird Sisters, 
 the instruments of destiny, give Macbeth his impulse; 
 he is driven upon these guiltless victims, who fall be- 
 cause they stand in the way of a mighty force. Such is 
 the outward form, though it must not be thought that 
 thus Macbeth is released from the responsibility of his 
 act. The inner truth is, that these shapes are himself, 
 his own desires, his own ambition. 
 
 The peculiarity of the present work is that the ethi- 
 cal elements, usually the most prominent, are with- 
 drawn into the background to make room for another 
 principle. To be sure those elements cannot be ab- 
 sent, and they have been pointed out in their proper 
 place; the conflict in the State and the destruction of 
 the Family are also seen in the career of Macbeth. 
 But the main interest is psychological ; the activities of 
 the mind appear to leap at once into independent forms 
 of the imagination. Although Macbeth knows ab- 
 stractly of his own ambition, still his chief temptation 
 seems to spring from the phantoms of the air; and 
 though an external punishment is brought home to him, 
 still his retribution as well as that of his wife is mainly 
 found in the workings of fantasy. Judging by its lan- 
 guage, its treatment, and its theme, we may call this 
 play distinctively the Tragedy of the Imagination. 
 
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