Essay/Term paper: Macbeth: a man of established character

Essay, term paper, research paper:  Macbeth

Macbeth: A Man of Established Character

Macbeth is presented as a mature man of definitely established character,
successful in certain fields of activity and enjoying a greedy reputation. We
must not conclude, there, that all his violations and actions are predictable;
Macbeth's character, like any other man's at a given moment, is what is being
made out of likelihood plus environment, and no one, not even Macbeth himself,
can know all his inordinate self-love whose actions are discovered to be-and no
doubt have been for a long time- determined mainly by an inordinate desire for
some temporal or mutable good.

Macbeth is actuated in his conduct mainly by an inordinate desire for worldly
honors; his delight lies primarily in buying golden opinions from all sorts of
people. But we must not, therefore, deny him an entirely human complexity of
motives. For example, his fighting in Duncan's service is magnificent and
courageous, and his evident joy in it is traceable in art to the natural
pleasure which accompanies the explosive expenditure of prodigious physical
energy and the euphoria which follows. He also rejoices no doubt in the success
which crowns his efforts in battle - and so on. He may even conceived of the
proper motive which should energize back of his great deed:

The service and the loyalty I owe, In doing it, pays itself. But while he
destroys the king's enemies, such motives work but dimly at best and are
obscured in his consciousness by more vigorous urges. In the main, as we have
said, his nature violently demands rewards: he fights valiantly in order that he
may be reported in such terms a "valour's minion" and "Bellona's bridegroom"' he
values success because it brings spectacular fame and new titles and royal favor
heaped upon him in public. Now so long as these mutable goods are at all
commensurate with his inordinate desires - and such is the case, up until he
covets the kingship - Macbeth remains an honorable gentleman. He is not a
criminal; he has no criminal tendencies. But once permit his self-love to
demand a satisfaction which cannot be honorably attained, and he is likely to
grasp any dishonorable means to that end which may be safely employed. In other
words, Macbeth has much of natural good in him unimpaired; environment has
conspired with his nature to make him upright in all his dealings with those
about him. But moral goodness in him is undeveloped and indeed still rudimentary,
for his voluntary acts are scarcely brought into harmony with ultimate end.

As he returns from victorious battle, puffed up with self-love which demands
ever-increasing recognition of his greatness, the demonic forces of evil-
symbolized by the Weird Sisters-suggest to his inordinate imagination the
splendid prospect of attaining now the greatest mutable good he has ever desired.
These demons in the guise of witches cannot read his inmost thoughts, but from
observation of facial expression and other bodily manifestations they surmise
with comparative accuracy what passions drive him and what dark desires await
their fostering. Realizing that he wishes the kingdom, they prophesy that he
shall be king. They cannot thus compel his will to evil; but they do arouse his
passions and stir up a vehement and inordinate apprehension of the imagination,
which so perverts the judgment of reason that it leads his will toward choosing
means to the desired temporal good. Indeed his imagination and passions are so
vivid under this evil impulse from without that "nothing is but what is not";
and his reason is so impeded that he judges, "These solicitings cannot be evil,
cannot be good." Still, he is provided with so much natural good that he is able
to control the apprehensions of his inordinate imagination and decides to take
no step involving crime. His autonomous decision not to commit murder, however,
is not in any sense based upon moral grounds. No doubt he normally shrinks from
the unnaturalness of regicide; but he so far ignores ultimate ends that, if he
could perform the deed and escape its consequences here upon this bank and shoal
of time, he'ld jump the life to come. Without denying him still a complexity of
motives - as kinsman and subject he may possibly experience some slight shade of
unmixed loyalty to the King under his roof-we may even say that the consequences
which he fears are not at all inward and spiritual, It is to be doubted whether
he has ever so far considered the possible effects of crime and evil upon the
human soul-his later discovery of horrible ravages produced by evil in his own
spirit constitutes part of the tragedy. Hi is mainly concerned, as we might
expect, with consequences involving the loss of mutable goods which he already
possesses and values highly.

After the murder of Duncan, the natural good in him compels the acknowledgment
that, in committing the unnatural act, he has filed his mind and has given his
eternal jewel, the soul, into the possession of those demonic forces which are
the enemy of mankind. He recognizes that the acts of conscience which torture
him are really expressions of that outraged natural law, which inevitably
reduced him as individual to the essentially human. This is the inescapable bond
that keeps him pale, and this is the law of his own natural from whose exactions
of devastating penalties he seeks release:

Come, seeling night...
And with thy bloody and invisible hand
Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
Which keeps me pale.

He conceives that quick escape from the accusations of conscience may possibly
be effected by utter extirpation of the precepts of natural law deposited in his
nature. And he imagines that the execution of more bloody deeds will serve his
purpose. Accordingly, then, in the interest of personal safety and in order to
destroy the essential humanity in himself, he instigates the murder of Banquo.

But he gains no satisfying peace because hes conscience still obliges him to
recognize the negative quality of evil and the barren results of wicked action.
The individual who once prized mutable goods in the form of respect and
admiration from those about him, now discovers that even such evanescent
satisfactions are denied him:

And that which should accompany old age,
As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.

But the man is conscious of a profound abstraction of something far more
precious that temporal goods. His being has shrunk to such little measure that
he has lost his former sensitiveness to good and evil; he has supped so full
with horrors and the disposition of evil is so fixed in him that nothing can
start him. His conscience is numbed so that he escapes the domination of fears,
and such a consummation may indeed be called a sort of peace. But it is not
entirely what expected or desires. Back of his tragic volitions is the
ineradicable urge toward that supreme contentment which accompanies and rewards
fully actuated being; the peace which he attains is psychologically a
callousness to pain and spiritually a partial insensibility to the evidences of
diminished being. His peace is the doubtful calm of utter negativity, where
nothing matters.

This spectacle of spiritual deterioration carried to the point of imminent
dissolution arouses in us, however, a curious feeling of exaltation. For even
after the external and internal forces of evil have done their worst, Macbeth
remains essentially human and his conscience continues to witness the diminution
of his being. That is to say, there is still left necessarily some natural good
in him; sin cannot completely deprive him of his rational nature, which is the
root of his inescapable inclination to virtue. We do not need Hecate to tell us
that he is but a wayward son, spiteful and wrathful, who, as other do, loves for
his own ends. This is apparent throughout the drama; he never sins because, like
the Weird Sisters, he loves evil for its own sake; and whatever he does is
inevitably in pursuance of some apparent good, even though that apparent good is
only temporal of nothing more that escape from a present evil. At the end, in
spite of shattered nerves and extreme distraction of mind, the individual passes
out still adhering admirably to his code of personal courage, and the man's
conscience still clearly admonishes that he has done evil.

Moreover, he never quite loses completely the liberty of free choice, which is
the supreme bonum naturae of mankind. But since a wholly free act is one in
accordance with reason, in proportion as his reason is more and more blinded by
inordinate apprehension of the imagination and passions of the sensitive
appetite, his volitions become less and less free. And this accounts for our
feeling, toward the end of the drama, that his actions are almost entirely
determined and that some fatality is compelling him to his doom. This compulsion
is in no sense from without-though theologians may at will interpret it so-as if
some god, like Zeus in Greek tragedy, were dealing out punishment for the
breaking of divine law. It is generated rather from within, and it is not merely
a psychological phenomenon. Precepts of the natural law-imprints of the eternal
law- deposited in his nature have been violated, irrational acts have
established habits tending to further irrationality, and one of the penalties
exacted is dire impairment of the liberty of free choice. Thus the Fate which
broods over Macbeth may be identified with that disposition inherent in created
things, in this case the fundamental motive principle of human action, by which
providence knits all things in their proper order. Macbeth cannot escape
entirely from his proper order; he must inevitably remain essentially human.

The substance of Macbeth's personality is that out of which tragic heroes are
fashioned; it is endowed by the dramatist with an astonishing abundance and
variety of potentialities. And it is upon the development of these
potentialities that the artist lavishes the full energies of his creative powers.
Under the influence of swiftly altering environment which continually furnishes
or elicts new experiences and under the impact of passions constantly shifting
and mounting in intensity, the dramatic individual grows, expands, developes to
the point where, at the end of the drama, he looms upon the mind as a titanic
personality infinitely richer that at the beginning. This dramatic personality
in its manifold stages of actuation in as artistic creation. In essence Macbeth,
like all other men, is inevitably bound to his humanity; the reason of order, as
we have seen, determines his inescapable relationship to the natural and eternal
law, compels inclination toward his proper act and end but provides him with a
will capable of free choice, and obliges his discernment of good and evil.