Such is a brief epitome of the plot of the drama. We will now proceed to examine the principal points which stand out in such bold relief, and endeavour to eliminate the great moral truths contained in them. latan are still crowded, and that spirit-rapping, electro-biology, clairvoyance, are but the more refined vocabulary of an ignorance equally dense, a curiosity equally wanton, and a folly equally lamentable. It is one Our attention is attracted, first of of the anomalies of this age that our all, by the celebrated incantation credulity appears to keep pace with scene, which portrays one of the our reason. We are becoming so most subtle follies of our nature-a severely logical, and our reasoning folly common alike to the educated powers are so keenly developed, that and the ignorant that restless long- we are beginning to have grave doubts ing to pry into the secrets of the about the Mosaic records, to suffer future, a foolish curiosity to know from a sort of Hebraic perplexity as what Providence has kindly shrouded to the authenticity of the Psalms, to in impenetrable darkness. Conceive look coyly upon miracles, to detect of the state of a man to whom the discrepancies in the New Testament, future has been revealed, the whole and to fear there must be some mismap of his life unfolded; there he take about the Incarnation; and yet, beholds all the tortuous windings of amidst all this intellectual revision of his weary journey, the many pitfalls revelation we find the educated and into which he must inevitably stum- the refined thronging to the séances ble, the enemies lying in wait for of the medium, speculating with the him, upon whom he must not only utmost seriousness on the apparition advance, but from the possession of of spectral hands, and the mysterious his fearful knowledge must contem- animation of musical instruments. plate in the long vista of time, until Infidelity and credulity were never at he arrives at the dreaded reality. a The sunshine and the gloom are alike revealed to him, he knows when the one will cease and the other commence -the dangers, the cares, the troubles, the anxieties of his whole existence accompany him at every step, like so many mocking spectres, which he cannot beat off. Then, far away in the distance, the scene terminates in the inscrutable gloom of that dark valley where all is lost in impenetrable mystery-that dread valley of the shadow of death, to him ever present, looming darkly up in the distance, gradually drawing nearer and nearer as he travels on through the arid path of his existence, and the light of hope, that heaven which arches over human life like a bright canopy, is shut out from his sight for ever. And yet there is scarcely any feeling more deeply rooted in our nature than this desire to read the scroll of fate; in all nations and times, prophets, seers, and witches have lived and been consulted by men of both high and low degree. Nor has a more extended science nor a more refined civilization succeeded in eradicating this wanton folly. Let those who sneer at the boorish ignorance of the peasant who crosses the impostor's hand with money, pause and remember that the salons of the char higher pitch than now. We are struggling hard to claim kinship by a natural development with the monkey tribe, and science is unwearied in her efforts to make our claim good. We are endeavouring to correct revelation, so that it may not for the future insult our understandings; and yet, an unfortunate lawyer's clerk, discharged by his master, has only to pawn his coat and invest the money in advertisements to the effect that his sands of life are fast running out, and he is anxious to communicate to his fellow-creatures, for six postage stamps, a never-failing remedy for curing all diseases; and in a short time he is enabled to employ a score of clerks, to ride in his carriage, and open a branch establishment in Paris. In the case of Macbeth, the responses of the witches fell upon a mind already inflamed with ambition, and as they boldly suggested the very objects upon which he had often dreamed, but as yet only dared to dream, they the more readily worked out his ruin. In the steps of the drama immediately following these predictions we see Macbeth plunged in gloomy reveries, giving vent to his morbid longings, and like all weak vacillating characters, endeavouring to juggle with his reason, and to persuade himself that instead of being on The Ethics of "Macbeth" the eve of criminal undertakings, he was merely following out his honest, true vocation; but the natural inertness, the constitutional laziness of the man gets the better of his ambition and his energy. The end of his soliloquy is "If chance will have me king, why chance may crown me Without my stir. Come whit, come may, [March, murder come to—an idea which has Mac My dearest love, Time and the hour run through the crime, or if not absolutely free from longest day." As yet there is plenty of ambition, plenty of longing, but it is an ambition which only dreams, loves to paint its future in glowing colours, but will never resolutely work it out. The character of Macbeth is too contemplative to be great in action; there is the conception of a purpose clear enough, but no determined resolution; left to himself he would have gone on musing and soliloquizing, a barınless, undecided, vacillating man; but the moving power is supplied in the person of his wife, who, in fact, is the master-spirit of the whole drama. Let her own solloquy reveal her character. She has just received the letter from her husband, announcing his being made Thane of Cawdor, and telling her of the witches' prognostication. She thus communes with herself— “Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature Is too full of the milk of human kindness be great, Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it; what thou won'dst highly. That wouldst thou holly: wouldst not play false. And yet wouldst wrongly win. That I may pour my spirts in thine ear, Which fate and metaphysical and doth To have the crowned withal.” How different from the hesitating, vacillating souloquy of Mabeth, already alluded to. This is the language of firm purpose and energetic action. No sooner is the approa is of announced than her plan is e determination of the the reply “Lady M., Shall sun that morrow see! men May read strange matters. To beguile Look like the time: bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the But be th serpent under it. He that's Must be provided for: and you shall put Which shall, to all our nights and days to come, Give solely sovereign sway and master dom." congratulation that very few Lady Woman's influence, we submit, is the key-stone of this great drama, and its operation upon the character of Macbeth is delineated by the poet as an illustration of its power. That influence, being the first which is brought to bear upon us, must be the most powerful of all influences which operate upon human action. It begins at the cradle and terminates only at the grave; it is acknowledged by the smile of the babe, who laughs back its response to maternal tenderness; and starting from this point it accompanies him through all the chequered scenes of his life in the character of wife, mother, or sister;-an influence omnipotent for good or evil, insinuating itself into all his purposes, and interlacing itself with the very web of his destiny. It was a thorough appreciation of this fact which prompted a certain Judge who had been listening for a long time to the arguments of two litigants, to break out impatiently with the exclamation, Where is the woman? Produce the woman." Longexperience had taught him that in the labyrinth of men's actions, woman's influence is the only clue. 66 We have read a great deal about woman's rights and woman's mission, about the education of woman, the social elevation of woman, and her capacity for engagements, which belong by the dictates of nature to man alone. That question can be set at rest in no way more effectually than by paying a visit to the home of a large family. There we see one influence permeating through the whole circle, operating upon all its members, from the highest to the lowest, the influence of the good and virtuous woman acting upon him who comes to her, weary from the world's strife, for rest and consolation, as powerfully as upon all the younger members, whose supple dispositions are moulded by her gentle teaching, and who look to her, their good mother, for precept and example; and when we reflect that as each son and daughter of this happy family grows up and goes out into the world, he and she will take the results of this home training and home teaching in their several characters, and will in turn become the centres of new circles and new families, tracing all the happiness they enjoy themselves and confer upon others, back to the heart of that good mother who reared them; and when we know that their children will in turn perpetuate that influence, and extend it far and wide wherever they may go, the question about woman's rights and woman's position, contemplating as we do in the character of the virtuous wife and the good mother her most natural right and her most noble position, seems paltry and foolish, indeed. It is true there are many women who have come out from amongst their sex and measured their strength, and measured it successfully, with men in undertakings which are peculiarly the business of men, and their names are famous in history. But it is a far more natural and more happy thought that there are scattered all over the world thousands of good women whose names we shall never hear mentioned, who are content to pursue their quiet way in the obscurity of domestic retirement, training up sons and daughters to take their place after them, creating that love of home and home associations, which is the foster-mother of a love far higher still-the love of country the true and only basis of a great nation's might and glory. Domestic happiness is the life-stream of a nation's existence, and woman is the ' spring whence that stream must flow. But we should recollect that the influence of woman for evil is no less powerful than for good, and it is that pernicious influence which we have to contemplate in the character of Lady Macbeth. Her husband was the impersonation of a strong physical, united to a feeble moral constitution; he was a brave soldier, would fight vigorously enough on the field of battle, where mere animal courage was requisite ; but on those occasions of life which call for a resolute will, an inflexible determination, or a moraĺ courage, we see how imbecile and vacillating he was. Left to himself he had not the courage of resolution to do the deed and dare the conse-. quences, nor the courage of conscience to resist the evil and repel the temptation. Lady Macbeth's influence would have settled the question either way, as the stronger character always does when operating on the weaker. She had all the qualities he wanted, more especially a de termination which could pursue to the end, regardless of consequences, a purpose once resolved upon. Had she been a good woman she would as easily, nay, more easily, have dissuaded him from murder, than, being a bad one, she overcame all his doubts and his fears, and incited him to its commission. We come, then, to this conclusion, that the lesson intended to be convoyed by Shakespeare in this drama is not so much the plain and universally admitted fact that murder will inevitably meet with its retribution, and upon which the stage emphasis is laid, as to present to our mind's eye the working of the influence of a bad but strong-willed woman upon an irresolute, indifferent man. True, the retribution comes, and comes in a mysterious manner, but it comes simply as a necessary consequence. The hero must be got rid of, and Shakespeare was too good a dramatist to let the chief villain escape. The action, the working out of the drama was, as we can see, the continued exercise of Lady Macbeth' spower over her husband; and as soon as the deed is done, and he is started in the impetuous career of crime, which he soon pursues without her help, she disappears to make way for the punishment of the murderer, which is the natural conclusion, but certainly not the teaching of the play. If read in this way, it can be understood and appreciated, but if read as a mere elucidation of the fact that "murder will out," it will appear to be a splendid overstrained attempt to il lustrate a commonplace truth. We now come to the climax of the plot, and Macbeth, stung into a criminal courage by the taunts of his wife, is seen stealthily creeping along on his murderous path; he disappears for a moment, and then comes back with guilt in his heart, horror in his face, the sin of murder already weighing down his soul; a traitor-an assassin! how vividly every incident connected with the deed is impressed upon his mind, seared into it as it were→→→ "There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cris · Murier !* But they did wake each other; I stood and heard them; But they did say their prayers and addressed them One cried, God bless us,' and ' Amen,' the other, As they had seen me with these hang man's hands. Listening their fear, I could not say amen The self-accusing nature of crime, and especially of murder, is shown in the subsequent fate of Macbeth. We are so constituted that although external circumstances may conspire to conceal our crime, yet retribution commences immediately after its commission. No sooner has the murderer accomplished his fell purpose, than the agonies of an aroused accusing conscience begin to torment him. Sleep forsakes his eyelids, the darkness of the night is peopled with horrible phantoms. They crowd around his pillow, and shrick the name of his dark crime into his ear. Daylight brings no relief, for though he go forth into the busy world, and mingle with the bustling crowds of his fellow-men, though he try to lose himself in the distraction of guilt; yet in all its scenes the phantom is at his elbow, gazing at him with its hollow eyes, appalling him with its speechless accusations, and high above the noise of many voices, the strains of music, the roar of cannon, or the peal of thunder, the death shriek of his victim rings through his soul, for the powers of nature as well as the hand of man are alike directed against him as against one common enemy. So it was with Macbeth; scarcely had he accomplished his crime, than the remorse of conscience began, his whole character is changed; and he who had often fought bravely on the field of battle, had beheld men fall around him, unmoved at the sight, now starts at every sound, shrinks from every shadow, and red with the blood of his slaughtered victim, becomes a victim to himself. What a fallacy is crime, seeing that it makes a brave man fear life more than death. Had I but died an hour before this chance, There's notiung serious in mortal ty : The wine of life is drawn, and the more Is it this vault to brag of." And not or' - this self-inflicted retribution mn murder, the highest of all crimes, but in a proportionate degree it accompanies every infringement of the moral law. We may commit crime without detection, but we can no more commit crime without punishment than we can infuse poison into the blood without injury. It is one of the most subtle workings of our internal constitution, and is in strict keeping with the analogies of nature. We expose our physical constitutions to the action of forces inimical to it, whether of damp, cold, or heat, and we suffer accordingly; and if we expose our moral constitution to the action of crime, we must entail upon ourselves, as an inevitable consequence, the punishment of an avenging conscience -a moral palsy, a wounded self-respect, a loss of that conscious rectitude which can alone make a man decisive in action, bold in danger, and generous and good in all things. Take a case in point. There is a man who has broken the laws of his country, has stolen, perjured, or forged; the vengeance of social justice overtakes him, he is deprived of the rights of citizenship, and confined in prison, whence, after an assigned period, he comes out, and we say his punishment is over;-it is not so, his punishment is going on within, and will probably go on as long as he lives. He has lost caste, has stabbed his self-respect; henceforth he will never feel the same proud integrity amongst his fellow-men; there is a foul brand on his forehead, a felonfeeling in his heart, which will make his lips falter when he pronounces the words of probity and honour, for they will fall from him like lies. Society may welcome him back, may honour him with her most distinguished gifts; but in vain; he will drag the fetid carcase of his moral life through all the world's fairest scenes, and though men may bow before him, yet the applause of honesty will be his most bitter reproof, for to himself he will always be a lost ruined man. Such is the terrible price of the departure from rectitude. Human laws may assign punishment, but it cannot atone for the loss of that feeling of spotless honour that consciousness of innocence which once gone can never be regained, and that whispering of the accusing self which will blight the fairest life and blast the happiest hour. With the master - hand of a true poet, Shakespeare has worked out all this in the subsequent stages of the drama; but there is one point upon which we wish to dwell before proceeding further, and that is the supernatural circumstances which preceded the murder and their nature. We read that- "The night has been unruly. Where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say, Lamentings heard in the air: strange And prophesying, with accents terrible, Clamoured the live-long night; some say Was feverous and did shake." Then afterwards Rosse, addressing the old man, says "Ah! good father, Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man's act, Threaten his bloody stage; by the clock 'tis day, And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp. Is it night's predominance or the day's shame That darkness does the face of earth entomb When living light should kiss it?" Further on we are told "A falcon, towering in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed. And Duncan's horses (a thing most strange and certain), Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, Turned wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make War with mankind." Shakespeare is fond of introducing this mysterious sympathy of nature with human actions, and evidently believed that such occurrences as he mentions, as well as such natural commotions as thunder, lightning, and earthquake, which so often and so strangely precede momentous or ominous occurrences, precede them by virtue of some mysterious sym |