Dr. Johnson observes on this scene, that all Katherine"s distresses could not save her from a quibble on the word _cardinal_.
Holy men I thought ye, Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues; But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye!
When we read this pa.s.sage in connection with the situation and sentiment, the scornful play upon the words is not only appropriate and natural, it seems inevitable. Katherine, a.s.suredly, is neither an imaginative nor a witty personage; but we all acknowledge the truism, that anger inspires wit, and whenever there is pa.s.sion there is poetry.
In the instance just alluded to, the sarcasm springs naturally out from the bitter indignation of the moment. In her grand rebuke of Wolsey, in the trial scene, how just and beautiful is the gradual elevation of her language, till it rises into that magnificent image--
You have by fortune and his highness" favors, Gone slightly o"er low steps, and now are mounted, Where powers are your retainers, &c.
In the depth of her affliction, the pathos as naturally clothes itself in poetry.
Like the lily, That was mistress of the field, and flourish"d, I"ll hang my head and perish.
But these, I believe, are the only instances of imagery throughout; for, in general, her language is plain and energetic. It has the strength and simplicity of her character, with very little metaphor and less wit.
In approaching the last scene of Katherine"s life, I feel as if about to tread within a sanctuary, where nothing befits us but silence and tears; veneration so strives with compa.s.sion, tenderness with awe.[108]
We must suppose a long interval to have elapsed since Katherine"s interview with the two cardinals. Wolsey was disgraced, and poor Anna Bullen at the height of her short-lived prosperity. It was Wolsey"s fate to be detested by both queens. In the pursuance of his own selfish and ambitious designs, he had treated both with perfidy; and one was the remote, the other the immediate, cause of his ruin.[109]
The ruffian king, of whom one hates to think, was bent on forcing Katherine to concede her rights, and illegitimize her daughter, in favor of the offspring of Anna Bullen: she steadily refused, was declared contumacious, and the sentence of divorce p.r.o.nounced in 1533. Such of her attendants as persisted in paying her the honors due to a queen were driven from her household; those who consented to serve her as princess-dowager, she refused to admit into her presence; so that she remained unattended, except by a few women, and her gentleman usher, Griffith. During the last eighteen months of her life, she resided at Kimbolton. Her nephew, Charles V., had offered her an asylum and princely treatment; but Katherine, broken in heart, and declining in health, was unwilling to drag the spectacle of her misery and degradation into a strange country: she pined in her loneliness, deprived of her daughter, receiving no consolation from the pope, and no redress from the emperor. Wounded pride, wronged affection, and a cankering jealousy of the woman preferred to her, (which though it never broke out into unseemly words, is enumerated as one of the causes of her death,) at length wore out a feeble frame. "Thus," says the chronicle, "Queen Katherine fell into her last sickness; and though the king sent to comfort her through Chapuys, the emperor"s amba.s.sador, she grew worse and worse; and finding death now coming, she caused a maid attending on her to write to the king to this effect:--
"My most dear Lord, King, and Husband;
"The hour of my death now approaching, I cannot choose but, out of the love I bear you, advise you of your soul"s health, which you ought to prefer before all considerations of the world or flesh whatsoever; for which yet you have cast me into many calamities, and yourself into many troubles: but I forgive you all, and pray G.o.d to do so likewise; for the rest, I commend unto you Mary our daughter, beseeching you to be a good father to her, as I have heretofore desired. I must intreat you also to respect my maids, and give them in marriage, which is not much, they being but three, and all my other servants a year"s pay besides their due, lest otherwise they be unprovided for: lastly, I make this vow, that mine eyes desire you above all things.--Farewell!"[110]
She also wrote another letter to the amba.s.sador, desiring that he would remind the king of her dying request, and urge him to do her this last right.
What the historian relates, Shakspeare realizes. On the wonderful beauty of Katherine"s closing scene we need not dwell; for that requires no ill.u.s.tration. In transferring the sentiments of her letter to her lips, Shakspeare has given them added grace, and pathos, and tenderness, without injuring their truth and simplicity: the feelings, and almost the manner of expression, are Katherine"s own. The severe justice with which she draws the character of Wolsey is extremely characteristic! the benign candor with which she listens to the praise of him "whom living she most hated," is not less so. How beautiful her religious enthusiasm!--the slumber which visits her pillow, as she listens to that sad music she called her knell; her awakening from the vision of celestial joy to find herself still on earth--
Spirits of peace! where are ye? are ye gone, And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
how unspeakably beautiful! And to consummate all in one final touch of truth and nature, we see that consciousness of her own worth and integrity which had sustained her through all her trials of heart, and that pride of station for which she had contended through long years,--which had become more dear by opposition, and by the perseverance with which she had a.s.serted it,--remaining the last strong feeling upon her mind, to the very last hour of existence.
When I am dead, good wench, Let me be used with honor: strew me over With maiden flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste wife to my grave; embalm me, Then lay me forth: although unqueen"d, yet like A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me I can no more.--
In the epilogue to this play,[111] it is recommended--
To the merciful construction of good women, For _such a one_ we show"d them:
alluding to the character of Queen Katherine. Shakspeare has, in fact, placed before us a queen and a heroine, who in the first place, and above all, is a _good_ woman; and I repeat, that in doing so, and in trusting for all his effect to truth and virtue, he has given a sublime proof of his genius and his wisdom;--for which, among many other obligations, we women remain his debtors.
LADY MACBETH.
I doubt whether the epithet _historical_ can properly apply to the character of Lady Macbeth; for though the subject of the play be taken from history, we never think of her with any reference to historical a.s.sociations, as we do with regard to Constance, Volumnia, Katherine of Arragon, and others. I remember reading some critique, in which Lady Macbeth was styled the "_Scottish queen_;" and methought the t.i.tle, as applied to _her_ sounded like a vulgarism. It appears that the real wife of Macbeth,--she who lives only in the obscure record of an obscure age, bore the very unmusical appellation of Graoch, and was instigated to the murder of Duncan, not only by ambition, but by motives of vengeance. She was the grand-daughter of Kenneth the Fourth, killed in 1003, fighting against Malcolm the Second, the Father of Duncan. Macbeth reigned over Scotland from the year 1039 to 1056--but what is all this to the purpose? The sternly magnificent creation of the poet stands before us independent of all these aids of fancy: she is Lady Macbeth; as such she lives, she reigns, and is immortal in the world to imagination. What earthly t.i.tle could add to her grandeur? what human record or attestation strengthen our impression of her reality?
Characters in history move before us like a procession of figures in _ba.s.so relievo_: we see one side only, that which the artist chose to exhibit to us; the rest is sunk in the block: the same characters in Shakspeare are like the statues _cut out_ of the block, fashioned, finished, tangible in every part: we may consider them under every aspect, we may examine them on every side. As the cla.s.sical times, when the garb did not make the man, were peculiarly favorable to the development and delineation of the human form, and have handed down to us the purest models of strength and grace--so the times in which Shakspeare lived were favorable to the vigorous delineation of natural character. Society was not then one vast conventional masquerade of manners. In his revelations, the accidental circ.u.mstances are to the individual character, what the drapery of the antique statue is to the statue itself; it is evident, that, though adapted to each other, and studied relatively, they were also studied separately. We trace through the folds the fine and true proportions of the figure beneath: they seem and are independent of each other to the practised eye, though carved together from the same enduring substance; at once perfectly distinct and eternally inseparable. In history we can but study character in relation to events, to situation and circ.u.mstances, which disguise and enc.u.mber it: we are left to imagine, to infer, what certain people must have been, from the manner in which they have acted or suffered.
Shakspeare and nature bring us back to the true order of things; and showing us what the human being _is_, enable us to judge of the possible as well as the positive result in acting and suffering. Here, instead of judging the individual by his actions, we are enabled to judge of actions by a reference to the individual. When we can carry this power into the experience of real life, we shall perhaps be more just to one another, and not consider ourselves aggrieved, because we cannot gather figs from thistles and grapes from thorns.
In the play or poem of Macbeth, the interest of the story is so engrossing, the events so rapid and so appalling, the accessories so sublimely conceived and so skilfully combined, that it is difficult to detach Lady Macbeth from the dramatic situation, or consider her apart from the terrible a.s.sociations of our first and earliest impressions. As the vulgar idea of a Juliet--that all-beautiful and heaven-gifted child of the south--is merely a love-sick girl in white satin, so the common-place idea of Lady Macbeth, though endowed with the rarest powers, the loftiest energies, and the profoundest affections, is nothing but a fierce, cruel woman, brandishing a couple of daggers, and inciting her husband to butcher a poor old king.
Even those who reflect more deeply are apt to consider rather the mode in which a certain character is manifested, than the combination of abstract qualities making up that individual human being; so what should be last, is first; effects are mistaken for causes, qualities are confounded with their results, and the perversion of what is essentially good, with the operation of positive evil. Hence it is, that those who can feel and estimate the magnificent conception and poetical development of the character, have overlooked the grand moral lesson it conveys; they forget that the crime of Lady Macbeth terrifies us in proportion as we sympathize with her; and that this sympathy is in proportion to the degree of pride, pa.s.sion, and intellect, we may ourselves possess. It is good to behold and to tremble at the possible result of the n.o.blest faculties uncontrolled or perverted. True it is, that the ambitious women of these civilized times do not murder sleeping kings: but are there, therefore, no Lady Macbeths in the world? no women who, under the influence of a diseased or excited appet.i.te for power or distinction, would sacrifice the happiness of a daughter, the fortunes of a husband, the principles of a son, and peril their own souls?
The character of Macbeth is considered as one of the most complex in the whole range of Shakspeare"s dramatic creations. He is represented in the course of the action under such a variety of aspects; the good and evil qualities of his mind are so poised and blended, and instead of being gradually and successively developed, evolve themselves so like shifting lights and shadows playing over the "unstable waters," that his character has afforded a continual and interesting subject of a.n.a.lysis and contemplation. None of Shakspeare"s personages have been treated of more at large; none have been more minutely criticized and profoundly examined. A single feature in his character--the question, for instance, as to whether his courage be personal or const.i.tutional, or excited by mere desperation--has been canva.s.sed, a.s.serted, and refuted, in two masterly essays.
On the other hand, the character of Lady Macbeth resolves itself into few and simple elements. The grand features of her character are so distinctly and prominently marked, that, though acknowledged to be one of the poet"s most sublime creations, she has been pa.s.sed over with comparatively few words: generally speaking, the commentators seem to have considered Lady Macbeth rather with reference to her husband, and as influencing the action of the drama, than as an individual conception of amazing power, poetry, and beauty: or if they do individualize her, it is ever with those a.s.sociations of scenic representation which Mrs.
Siddons has identified with the character. Those who have been accustomed to see it arrayed in the form and lineaments of that magnificent woman, and developed with her wonder-working powers, seem satisfied to leave it there, as if nothing more could be said or added.[112]
But the generation which beheld Mrs. Siddons in her glory is pa.s.sing away, and we are again left to our own una.s.sisted feelings, or to all the satisfaction to be derived from the sagacity of critics and the reflections of commentators. Let us turn to them for a moment.
Dr. Johnson, who seems to have regarded her as nothing better than a kind of ogress, tells us, in so many words, that "Lady Macbeth is merely detested." Schlegel dismisses her in haste, as a species of female fury.
In the two essays on Macbeth already mentioned, she is pa.s.sed over with one or two slight allusions. The only justice that has yet been done to her is by Hazlitt, in the "Characters of Shakspeare"s Plays." Nothing can be finer than his remarks as far as they go, but his plan did not allow him sufficient s.p.a.ce to work out his own conception of the character, with the minuteness it requires. All that he says is just in sentiment, and most eloquent in the expression; but in leaving some of the finest points altogether untouched, he has also left us in doubt whether he even felt or perceived them; and this masterly criticism stops short of the _whole_ truth--it is a little superficial, and a little too harsh.
In the mind of Lady Macbeth, ambition is represented as the ruling motive, an intense over-mastering pa.s.sion, which is gratified at the expense of every just and generous principle, and every feminine feeling. In the pursuit of her object, she is cruel, treacherous, and daring. She is doubly, trebly dyed in guilt and blood; for the murder she instigates is rendered more frightful by disloyalty and ingrat.i.tude, and by the violation of all the most sacred claims of kindred and hospitality. When her husband"s more kindly nature shrinks from the perpetration of the deed of horror, she, like an evil genius, whispers him on to his d.a.m.nation. The full measure of her wickedness is never disguised, the magnitude and atrocity of her crime is never extenuated, forgotten, or forgiven, in the whole course of the play. Our judgment is not bewildered, nor our moral feeling insulted, by the sentimental jumble of great crimes and dazzling virtues, after the fashion of the German school and of some admirable writers of our own time. Lady Macbeth"s amazing power of intellect, her inexorable determination of purpose, her superhuman strength of nerve, render her as fearful in herself as her deeds are hateful; yet she is not a mere monster of depravity, with whom we have nothing in common, nor a meteor whose destroying path we watch in ignorant affright and amaze. She is a terrible impersonation of evil pa.s.sions and mighty powers, never so far removed from our own nature as to be cast beyond the pale of our sympathies; for the woman herself remains a woman to the last--still linked with her s.e.x and with humanity.
This impression is produced partly by the essential truth in the conception of the character, and partly by the manner in which it is evolved; by a combination of minute and delicate touches, in some instances by speech, in others by silence: at one time by what is revealed, at another by what we are left to infer. As in real life, we perceive distinctions in character we cannot always explain, and receive impressions for which we cannot always account, without going back to the beginning of an acquaintance, and recalling many and trifling circ.u.mstances--looks, and tones, and words: thus, to explain that hold which Lady Macbeth, in the midst of all her atrocities, still keeps upon our feelings, it is necessary to trace minutely the action of the play, as far as she is concerned in it, from its very commencement to its close.
We must bear in mind, that the first idea of murdering Duncan is not suggested by Lady Macbeth to her husband: it springs within _his_ mind, and is revealed to us, before his first interview with his wife,--before she is introduced or even alluded to.
MACBETH.
This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill; cannot be good. If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor-- If good, why do I yield to that suggestion, Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature?
It will be said, that the same "horrid suggestion" presents itself spontaneously to her, on the reception of his letter; or rather, that the letter itself acts upon her mind as the prophecy of the Weird Sisters on the mind of her husband, kindling the latent pa.s.sion for empire into a quenchless flame. We are prepared to see the train of evil, first lighted by h.e.l.lish agency, extend itself to _her_ through the medium of her husband; but we are spared the more revolting idea that it originated with her. The guilt is thus more equally divided than we should suppose, when we hear people pitying "the n.o.ble nature of Macbeth," bewildered and goaded on to crime, solely or chiefly by the instigation of his wife.
It is true that she afterwards appears the more active agent of the two; but it is less through her preeminence in wickedness than through her superiority of intellect. The eloquence--the fierce, fervid eloquence with which she bears down the relenting and reluctant spirit of her husband, the dexterous sophistry with which she wards off his objections, her artful and affected doubts of his courage--the sarcastic manner in which she lets fall the word coward--a word which no man can endure from another, still less from a woman, and least of all from a woman he loves--and the bold address with which she removes all obstacles, silences all arguments, overpowers all scruples, and marshals the way before him, absolutely make us shrink before the commanding intellect of the woman, with a terror in which interest and admiration are strangely mingled.
LADY MACBETH.
He has almost supp"d: why have you left the chamber?
MACBETH.
Hath he ask"d for me?
LADY MACBETH.
Know you not, he has?
MACBETH.
We will proceed no farther in this business; He hath honored me of late, and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon.
LADY MACBETH.
Was the hope drunk, Wherein you dress"d yourself? hath it slept since, And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time, Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valor, As thou art in desire? Would"st thou have that Which thou esteem"st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem; Letting I dare not wait upon I would, Like the poor cat i" the adage?